Beneath the Rose
by Naphyla
Summary: AU HBP, HPDM slash. Harry decided to visit Draco in the hospital after the Sectumsempra incident, and finds an unexpected side of the young Slytherin. Realization hit the two of them as they became friends and something more. But time is running out.
1. The Beginning of Trouble

**Author's Note:** Well...my first HP fanfic (actually...my first fanfiction ever). I had this story in my head for a long time, and it was finally organized enough to be written. So here it is. Comments and suggestions are always appreciated (I welcome critiques with open arms!) Without further ado, enjoy the story!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters, as they belong to J. K. Rowling. No money is being made from this.

**Summary: **AU HBP, HPDM slash. Harry decided to visit Draco in the hospital after the Sectumsempra incident, and finds an unexpected side of the young Slytherin. Realization hits the two of them as they became friends and something more. But time is running out.

**Edit:** The chapter is changed slightly (the plot is untouched) as I have found a Beta-reader, Lisa725 (yay!).

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**Chapter One — The Beginning of Trouble**

_When I first saw him, I thought he was a princess._

_The silvery blond__e hair came into sight first, followed by his unbelievably pale skin, as if it had never been touched by a ray of sunlight. His movements were graceful, and his every motion held a sense of purpose. He looked delicate and fragile, far frailer than a china doll, as if he might break at any moment. The boy had every right to be called an angel, but he was far from being one. Then came his eyes: stormy grey orbs that shone with arrogance and pride like the princesses in fairy tales._

_He stood out in Hogwarts — even among hundreds of students — whether he was walking into the Great Hall or just chatting with his friends in class. He seemed almost unearthly, and it felt unnatural to see him hang around with his fellow Slytherins; they were far too mediocre compared to him. Sometimes I would drift off in my imagination, thinking that he had once lived in a grand castle and ruled over its people._

_From the moment I laid my eyes on him, I knew Draco Malfoy was special._

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_

"_Sectumsempra!_" The word came out of his mouth before he had time to think. The raven-haired boy grinned slightly as the spell hit the Slytherin squarely on the chest. The blonde merely stood there, as the smug smile slowly faded from the other boy's lips.

_What have I done?_

The dark-haired boy watched in shock as the blonde in front of him collapsed onto the wet floor. Moaning Myrtle was screaming her head off, but the boy stood petrified with fear at the spot where he'd cast the spell. The blonde now lay on his back. His face and robes were smeared with blood that continued to gush from his cut. The thick liquid reached the waterlogged floor and spread like dancing flowers, slowly staining the water crimson beneath his robe. The boy's eyes were tightly shut as he clenched his bleeding chest. The brunet stumbled forward and fell to his knees beside the blonde.

_This wasn't supposed to happen._

He crawled closer to the boy lying on his back, picked up his head from the cold, wet floor, and placed his left hand under his hair. The raven-haired boy noticed that his face was even paler than before, with tear marks that had dried not too long ago. Nervously, he bent over and tried to heal him, but none of the spells worked.

The boy began to worry. He wished he had paid more attention to the healing spells mentioned in his books. He chanted the spells over and over again, hoping the wounds would heal just a little.

Suddenly, the door was slammed open, revealing a tall man with long, greasy hair. The dark-haired boy opened his mouth to speak, but the man pushed the boy aside roughly, and he staggered back and hit the wall. The man then took out his wand, placed it above the blonde's chest, and muttered a spell as he traced his wand down the boy's wound. Seconds after the man began treating the wounds, the deep cuts began to close as the tissues knitted together. The blonde opened his eyes slowly and looked up at the longhaired man who was still trying to mend his wounds.

"Severus …"

"You need to go to the infirmary. If we treat your wounds immediately, you might not even have scars. Now come," the man said gently to the boy as he helped him stand. The warmth was wiped clean as he turned around and glared at the raven-haired boy with a mixture of disgust and hatred. "And as for you, Potter, I hope you will provide an explanation for this when I come back."

The raven-haired boy stared as the two of them moved out of the bathroom and disappeared down the hall, hoping that this was all just a nightmare.

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"I don't think I need to say it again, Harry, but I'll say it anyway: Leave the goddamned book alone," Hermione Granger said as she flounced over to the sofa in the common room.

"But it's not Harry's fault. Malfoy deserved it!" Ron Weasley frowned at the girl with bushy hair.

"Look, if it wasn't for that book, this would never have happened in the first place," Hermione said, her fingers tapping on her knee with impatience. She turned toward other boy and continued on with her lecture. "Harry, there's Dark Magic in that book. It's not as fun as it looks."

"Hermione, he tried to curse Harry, for goodness' sake!" Ron stood up from his seat, face red from frustration. "For all we know, Harry could have been _dead_ if he hadn't defended himself!" Hermione and Ron were glaring at one another as if trying to burn a hole through the other's face.

"If defending oneself means killing the other—"

"Guys, can we please stop this."

The two heads turned at the same time to face the boy with unruly hair. Hermione immediately took a seat next to the boy. Ron hesitated before taking a seat on his other side.

"It was my fault. I shouldn't have tried that spell. I would never have done that to Malfoy if I'd known what was going to happen to him." Harry Potter sat between his two best friends, rubbing his temples with his hands as he murmured. The memory of what happened several hours ago repeated itself over and over again in his head. He felt guilty for what he had done. He didn't mean to harm Malfoy, even if he was an archrival at school. The image of him falling in a puddle of his own blood made Harry shutter mentally.

"Harry, I'm sorry." Hermione put her hand onto the boy's shoulder. "I didn't mean to blame you for this, but you really shouldn't have used an unknown spell like that. Promise me you won't go and look for that book again."

"You just don't want anyone to beat you in Potions, that's all." Hermione shot Ron a look.

"Maybe I should go to the infirmary to check on how he's doing." Hermione looked disapproving, and Ron was about to protest, but Harry continued before either of them had time to speak. "After all, it really was my fault."

It was already eight o'clock when Harry headed for the hospital wing. Hermione had insisted on coming with him, saying that she could keep an eye on Malfoy in case he tried to do anything funny, but Harry assured her that nothing was going to happen.

"It's only going to take five minutes," Harry said.

"But this is Malfoy we're talking about. How do you know he wouldn't hex you the second you step through those doors?" Hermione had always been the paranoid one.

"Look Herm', Malfoy had just been revived from a severe injury." Harry's stomach lurched as he spoke, but he went on. "He probably won't have the strength to even sit up, not to mention casting spells. And even if he does try to do something funny … well, I'm sure that nothing serious is going to happen." Hermione raised her brows at Harry. He was never good when it came to reasoning. The boy grinned, hoping that this sensitive girl would be more convinced. And surprisingly, Hermione did not argue back.

"Oh, all right. But make sure you come back quickly." The smile on Harry's face broadened.

The boy found his way to the infirmary and stepped in to talk to Madame Pomfrey about seeing Malfoy. At first, she eyed him suspiciously, but she finally decided that if Harry was asking permission to see Malfoy nothing bad was going to come of it. The dark-haired boy was secretly happy that he had been one of Pomfrey's favourites; if Malfoy had been asking for the same thing, he would probably have been kicked out the second those words left his mouth. Well, things might have been different if he hadn't tried to pull that stupid stunt in their third year.

After obtaining permission, Harry walked further into the infirmary. He scanned the room for the Slytherin and found him on the third bed to his right. Slowly, he walked over and sat down on the chair placed beside it, watching the blonde as he slept. The wound on his face had almost vanished. His skin had almost returned to its usual colour, but there was still with a tinge of grey. Harry noticed the dark shadows under the boy's eyes and could not help but wonder what Malfoy had been doing since school had started. The Boy-Who-Lived began to worry that his suspicions had been true, that Draco had been working for the Dark Lord.

The door of the infirmary opened and closed, and Harry pushed his thoughts away. It seemed that Madame Pomfrey had gone elsewhere. He looked back at the boy, and his heart almost stopped. The face that had been so calm and peaceful was no longer resting. The previously shut eyes had opened to reveal cold, grey marbles that stared back at Harry.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" The blonde spoke weakly as he sat up on the bed, trying to level himself with Harry. However, he had fallen back onto his pillows. Tension built between his brows.

"Don't try to get up. You're still hurt." The Slytherin ignored Harry's comment and attempted to sit up again, fighting back the pain. This time, he succeeded.

"And whose fault do you think it was?" Even in such a state, there was arrogance mixed with the bitter words Draco Malfoy spoke. The two of them fell silent, with the blonde still glaring at the other boy. Moments later, Harry opened his mouth to speak.

"I'm sorry about what happened. I—"

"Am I supposed to forgive you after you tried to kill me?" Malfoy snapped before Harry could finish. "For your information, Potter, I could've been scarred for life, or even worse, dead. Now get the hell out of my face before I curse you."

"I don't need you to forgive me, and I know what I've done might have ended up being worse than this. But I'm going to apologize anyway. I'm truly sorry for what I did." The blonde narrowed his eyes in distrust, but he could only find sincerity burning in the deep emerald eyes of his enemy. Malfoy turned his gaze away.

"Out."

Harry did not need to be told again. He stood up and marched out of the infirmary.

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Harry woke the next morning and found himself alone in the dormitory. He dressed and decided to fill his stomach before going to detention with Snape. As he stepped into the Great Hall, he felt hundreds of pairs of eyes on him. There was no doubt the whole school knew the series of events that had happened in the boys' washroom. Harry tried his best to ignore the stares and sat at his usual spot at the Gryffindor table eating a bowl of cereal. While drinking his pumpkin juice, Harry stole a few glances at the Slytherin table. Malfoy was nowhere in sight.

Harry finished his breakfast quickly and went down to Professor Snape's office.

Detention did not go smoothly. Snape, gazing hatefully at him all the while, kept him in his dark office for almost three hours. Just when he thought he was about to die, Snape dismissed him and told him the next session will take place at the exact same time the following week.

Feeling tired, Harry spoke the password to the Fat Lady and entered the common room. His felt the weight in his heart lighten once he saw the smiling faces of his fellow Gryffindors; they had, no doubt, won the Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. Ron cheered when he saw Harry enter the common room. Ginny turned around, came running toward him, and gave him a warm hug. Seamus and Dean each handed Harry a glass of butterbeer and almost forced it down his throat.

After spending the rest of the afternoon celebrating, the gang went down for dinner as night descended. They arrived at the Great Hall with most of the Gryffindors looking at Harry's direction as the group sat down on the long table. Instead of butterbeer, which Harry now felt sick from drinking, his friends cheered the victory with pumpkin juice. The glasses clattered as they hit against each other. As the gang engaged in another round of discussion about the Quidditch match earlier, everyone seemed to have thrown the event in the boys' washroom to the very back of their minds — all except for Harry, that is.

Halfway through dinner, Harry noticed that Malfoy was absent. His stomach lurched uncomfortably. The injury should have healed by now. He tried to tell himself that the blonde might have skipped dinner to do his homework or that he simply wasn't feeling hungry. He failed miserably, however. He was not good at lying, not even to himself. Pretence was replaced slowly by concern.

_What if Malfoy never healed properly?_

Harry chocked on a piece of ham at the thought. His heart was overwhelmed by guilt and fear. Then he remembered the conversation between Professor Snape and Draco.

_If we treat your wounds immediately, you might not even have scars._

Malfoy would probably hate him even more if he was scarred. Even if Malfoy acted as if nothing had happened, Harry would probably drive himself mad for the rest of his life out of guilt.

He stuffed down as much food as he could and slipped out of his seat. The other Gryffindors, who had been talking about Ginny's brilliant performance, did not notice Harry sneaking out of the Great Hall. Hermione was the only one who paid attention to Harry's abrupt actions. However, she did not say anything to the others as Harry disappeared down the corridor.

Within minutes, Harry had reached the hospital wing. He stepped inside, but he did not see Madame Pomfrey anywhere. The infirmary was dimly lit, and Harry was only able to make out the outline of the few beds in the room. It was only when he stepped inside the room that he felt his own anxiety. He arrived a few steps from the foot of the bed that he thought was Draco's and realized that it was empty. The white sheets had been smoothed evenly, without a trace of fold.

_I told you he's fine._ The voice in the back of Harry's mind told him. The odd, suffocating feeling in his chest died away, and he let out more or less of a sigh in relief.

"Coming to kill me again, huh, Potter?"

The words caught Harry off guard. He would recognize that voice anywhere, and he spun around instinctively. For a moment, he could only see the dark silhouettes on the opposite wall. Then he caught the stormy eyes.

The blonde was sitting a few beds away on the other side of the room, with a thin layer of blanket that covered his waist and below.

"Malfoy …"

"I thought I told you to get lost," Draco Malfoy said. As calm as his voice was, the blonde was clearly irritated to see his nemesis standing before him. "It looks like I have to use a more effective way to get rid of you." The blonde reached for the wand on his right and pointed it at Harry.

"Please, I didn't come here for a fight. I just want to talk."

"I'm not convinced, Potter. Coming here at this time of the day …" A cold sneer found its way to Malfoy's face. "And may I add that I think we went over this last time, but I guess I'll have to repeat myself: _Get out."_

"Look, can we just -"

"I'm afraid not, Potter. There's nothing more needed to be said." The smirk and sneer were wiped from his face without a trace as the blonde cut abruptly into Harry's sentence. The room fell into silence, and the two boys stared at one other. But, the Slytherin still had the wand gripped in his fingers. Harry frowned, more towards himself than anything else. He walked closer to the bed the blonde was now sitting on and made another attempt to speak with him.

"I know that nothing I say will change the way you think about what happened." Harry paused, waiting for the other boy to cut him off again. No comment came, and Harry continued, "So, I was wondering if I can do anything to make it up to you." The words made him sound more cautious and nervous than he had intended. Careful as he was, though, Harry did not once turn his gaze away from the blonde. Malfoy stared at Harry with the same blank expression, but the Gryffindor knew that he was considering and weighing his words. Finally, the blonde opened his mouth to speak.

"Actually, yes."

Harry was startled by the quick response. He tried not to show it, and Malfoy didn't seem to notice.

"Turn right, walk three steps, turn left, and keep on going until you see a door. Open it, walk out, head toward Gryffindor tower, and don't show your face here again."

"Malfoy, be serious," Harry said, but he could not suppress the exasperation growing in his voice.

The Slytherin stared into the green eyes, locking gazes, and for a minute Harry seemed to see uncertainty in the stormy grey. Whatever emotion was there was quickly covered by a barrier, like a layer of mist that lay beneath the pupils. Malfoy swung his head, almost too quickly, and laid his wand beside his pillow.

"Just leave." The blonde shifted in his bed so his back faced the raven-haired boy.

Enraged, Harry wheeled around to leave the ward. Then something caught his eye as he glided past the blonde. Even in the dark, Harry could see the shape of the other boy's small body. He had noticed the blonde seemed to be getting thinner every time they passed each other in the hallways. But, that was not what made the boy stop in his tracks. For a second, he thought he had seen the boy's pyjama-clad shoulders quiver slightly.

"Malfoy—?" The anger drained out of his voice, and it was replaced by tenderness that had not existed seconds ago. When the Slytherin did not respond, Harry repeated his name again, in a more anxious voice this time. The dark-haired boy waited, but once again there was no reply. Worried and slightly confused, Harry walked up to Malfoy's bed and placed his hand onto the boy's shoulder. The Gryffindor flinched away as his fingers brushed by the boy's pale skin. The marble white flesh felt like it was caught on fire. Without a second thought, Harry held onto both sides of the boy's shoulder and turned his body so the blonde was facing him. Malfoy squirmed and tried to pull away. Harry had anticipated the action, and strengthened his grip. The struggles became light nudges, and finally the blonde stopped moving. Harry could feel Malfoy trembling, now that the boy ceased to attempt an escape. Perspiration built on the blonde's face, and Harry could feel the heat radiating from him even through the thick fabric of his pyjama. He shook the pale boy lightly, but he seemed to be ignoring it.

Harry placed Malfoy back onto the bed. The blonde jolted slightly as the raven-haired boy removed his hands from his shoulders. Seeing that Madame Pomfrey would not be back anytime soon, Harry decided to look for the potion himself. He lit his wand and looked through the shelves full of containers of different shapes and sizes, checking for the one he needed. When he was finally able to find the right bottle, he heard a scream that made him drop the glass. Harry left the broken bottle and its remains and rushed to the blonde's bed.

Malfoy is now sitting, shaking violently. "No … don't … please don't …" He spoke in a voice that was barely audible. His eyes were wide with fright, but there was something about them that did not feel right. The stormy grey had lost their usual colour, as if all life had been drained out of them. Harry, watching the boy's every move, walked slowly toward the blond, taking each step with caution.

"I … I'll do anything … I promise. I'll do anything!" The Slytherin pleaded, almost desperately, choking on his words as he sobbed. Harry reached the boy and sat on the empty space on the bed beside him. Malfoy did not even seem to notice the presence of the other boy, and simply sat there, crying. Harry put his hand onto the boy's shoulder again, slow and lightly this time. Malfoy veered his head just as the other boy felt the fabric under his fingers, as if noticing Harry for the first time. Malfoy backed away abruptly until his back hit the cold metal of the headboard.

"Malfoy—"

"Don't kill him … please … _don't kill them!_" Grey eyes stared at the green, vacant as ever. Harry moved closer to the blond and enclosed him in his arms. His body felt so small, so light. Malfoy resisted, more aggressively than he had before, and tried to push the other boy away, but Harry only tightened his arms around the blonde. Soon, he stopped moving in Harry arms and clenched his hands around his robe. His grasp was so tight that his knuckles turned a deathly white.

"Shh …. No one's going to die," Harry whispered as he rubbed and patted the blonde on the back soothingly. This was the second time he had seen Draco's tears. It felt weird, seeing the Slytherin cry like this. He looked helpless and desperate — not at all like the proud Malfoy he had known. It reminded Harry of how he had been locked up in the cupboard whenever he did something wrong or unnatural. Harry kept on comforting the blonde. After all, it was the least he could do for him. He had never truly disliked Malfoy. Although the young Slytherin had done a few things that had provoked Harry very much, he could never bring himself to truly hate the boy. He remembered when they first met at Madam Malkin's robe shop. The genuine smile on the blonde's face had made him feel welcome for the first time since he first joined the Wizarding World, like he had actually belonged here. Maybe a first impression had had a far bigger impact than he thought.

Harry returned his attention to Malfoy. The boy breathed calmly now, but he still seemed a little shaky. "Go to sleep. No one's getting hurt. No one will hurt you," Harry whispered. Malfoy closed his eyes and leaned his head onto Harry's shoulder, like an obedient child. Harry continued to stroke the other boy's back until he heard slow, even breathing. He then laid the blonde back onto the bed and covered him with a layer of blanket.

A million questions were going through his mind. The boy knew, however, that asking these questions would not help the current situation one bit. Seeing that it was getting late, Harry stood up from his seat and walked out the infirmary. Questions could wait till later.


	2. Foggy Memories

**Author's Note****:** A big thank you to the people that had the patience to read my story, especially those who reviewed or added my story on their alert/fav list. I apologize for the late update and thanks again.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters, as they belong to J. K. Rowling. No money is being made from this.

**Summary: **AU HBP, HPDM slash. Harry decided to visit Draco in the hospital after the Sectumsempra incident, and finds an unexpected side of the young Slytherin. Realization hits the two of them as they became friends and something more. But time is running out.

**Edit:** This chapter has been edited; some wordings may have been changed but the plot still remains the same

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**Chapter Two — Foggy Memories**

Draco woke the next morning with a throbbing pain in his head that ceased to go away. His left hand automatically found its way to his temple. He let his fingers press hard into his skin and massaged it, while he slowly adjusted to the sting. Feeling better, the boy sat up and leaned back on the headboard. It only took a few seconds for him to think back to the day before.

_Potter had been here. We argued, and I told him to leave. Then I felt pain, and then…oh my God._

Draco dropped his head in his hands. The boy winced as his sudden action brought a jolt of pain to his head once more.

_This has to be the worst day of my life._

Slowly removing his hands from his face, the blonde turned to look at the clock. It was quarter after eight. His hands instinctively reached for the pile of clothes placed on the table and began fumbling through it. It was when he finally spotted the sleeve of the white top he was looking for that his body caught up with his mind.

_What am __I doing? I shouldn't be worrying about class right now. Fuck. It's the last thing I should be worrying about!_

Pushing a strand of hair out of his face, Draco folded his clothes into a neat pile and placed it back onto the table. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and then took another, trying to wash away a rising mixture of emotions.

_Shit. Potter knows._

Draco wanted to kick himself. As if he had not taken enough precaution already. He knew that Potter had been keeping an eye on him and his gang ever since the beginning of the year, and he had done everything he could think of to make himself less suspicious. But so far, nothing seemed to distract that bloody Gryffindor from digging into this matter. In fact, Potter seemed to know exactly where they were at times. Although he would like to think of it as his own paranoid nature to suspect and question things a great deal, it was far beyond what one could call coincidence. Potter also seemed to have already learned about their little hiding place on the seventh floor. He had to be more careful from now on. This meant that he would have to stay out of Potter's way and avoid him whenever possible, even if it would cost him his reputation.

After minutes of frustration and dissatisfaction, Draco fell back onto the pillows and pulled the covers over his head. He needed some time to work things out, and he could care less about missing a few classes. Before he even got to the next step, waves of exhaustion hit him, and he suddenly realized how tired he was. Draco shut his eyes and slept.

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The afternoon sun penetrated the thin layer of curtain. Feeling the light on his face, Draco fluttered his lashes several times before finally forcing his eyes open. The headache that had pained him so much was gone without a trace. The boy sat up, sighing in relief, and began to smooth his hair with his hand, running his fingers through each strand. The room was painted a beautiful gold, with a tinge of orange and red. Sunsets reminded him of his childhood memories. He used to sit in his father's study, watching him work hour after hour. His father would always turn around at the sight of dusk with his hair and eyes luminous from the rays. Every once in a long while his lips would curve up, forming not a sneer, but something so rare that he remembered seeing it only a dozen times in his life. He felt proud, even privileged, to see one of his father's few genuine smiles. Those were memories too precious, too dear to forget.

Then it all came crashing down. Death Eaters. Dementors. The Dark Lord. Azkaban. The Kiss. The Dark Mark. His mother. His mission. Killing Dumbledore. He didn't want to think about these things. He hated his reality and longed to go back to his childhood, where the only thing he had to worry about was being happy. He knew he could not possibly go back in time and stay there for the rest of his life. The world didn't work that way.

For a long time, Draco merely sat there and watched the magnificence in front of him in silence, letting his mind travel to those distant memories. He felt his eyes moistening and blinked rapidly to hold back the tears. Crying meant exposing all sorts of vulnerabilities. He had done enough crying to last him a lifetime. Finally, the last rays of the setting sun slipped away, and they were replaced by the faint glow of moonlight behind the thick coat of clouds.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

The voice broke Draco's thoughts and brought him back to the now candle-lit room. With a swift, graceful swing, the blonde turned to face the woman standing a few beds away from him. His eyes returned once again to a cold grey, no longer lucid and readable.

"Hello, Madame Pomfrey," the boy replied. Like his eyes, his voice maintained its usual colourless tone.

"Are you feeling all right?"

"Yes, fine. Thank you," Draco responded.

"Well then, Mr. Malfoy, I am happy to inform you that you've made a complete recovery," the woman stated, not sounding the least bit glad. "I think I'll let you out of bed early." She paused and eyed the blonde for a moment before she continued. "Are you quite sure you don't want to spend another night here? Professor Snape told me the injury might take some time to recover fully."

"No, I'll be fine. Thank you for your concern," Draco spoke, politely, with a smile on his lips. He had recovered from the injury on the day the incident had happened, but since Professor Snape had the duty of being his Godfather, it was only natural that he made sure his Godson was "cared for the best." But today was not the day for that. The last place Draco wanted to be at was the Infirmary; Potter had dropped in the previous two nights, and Draco was positive that he would appear again tonight. He would need to go somewhere that Bloody Gryffindor couldn't bother him. At least then he would have been able to be spared from Potter's stupid questions. In fact, that convenient little hideout up on the seventh floor would be the perfect place. As long as he was in there, Potter wouldn't be able to disturb him.

The blonde got out of bed and began taking off his pyjamas, all the while with Madame Pomfrey watching. As Draco unbuttoned his top, she could see the outline of his small body, with his pale skin tightly wrapped around his ribs and spine. The boy was far from muscular, not to mention healthy. There were heavy shadows under his eyes—not at all the kind that one would get from missing a day or two of sleep. Of course, Draco was oblivious to the fact that Madame Pomfrey was watching him. It was only when he finished changing that the woman opened her mouth to speak again, in a less stern manner.

"Dinner has just started. They're serving shepherd's pie today. If you hurry, there might still be some left." Draco nodded, thanked Madame Pomfrey for the information, and began walking out the door. Of course, he had no intention in going to the Great Hall. "Actually, I'm heading there myself. Do you mind if I go with you?"

The blonde stopped in his tracks.

_No…this is not happening. Could a day be any worse?_

Draco nodded slowly, as if his ability to speak had been taken away.

"Well, what are we waiting for? The food be gone!"

Madame Pomfrey marched swiftly to the door, opened it, and gestured for the blonde to walk through. Unwillingly, Draco stepped outside, cursing every last word and phrase imaginable.

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Hogwarts during dinner was always quiet; but for Draco, it was quite different. A fierce battle was taking place inside his head.

_Tell her you need to go to the bathroom, and then make your way to the kitchen and terrorize the house elves. I'm sure it won't hurt to ask them to make you something to eat.__ I mean, serving food is their duty._ The voice in the back of his head spoke.

_No! You know for a fact that this __is a lame excuse and will only arouse her suspicions. Remember? I went to the bathroom two minutes ago. That is not my main concern, though. Pomfrey is on to me. Just look at the way she's staring at me!_

_Well, it's far better than walking to the Great Hall and meeting your demise. You _know_ how people are going to react when they see you enter the hall. Sure, you'll be in the centre of attention and all, but that's not the point. The point is that Potter will be notified of your return, and the first thing he's going to do is to bombard you with questions. It might make it easier if you don't go there at all._

_If you want to lighten my burden a little, you could start by shutting up right now._

Surprisingly, the voice stopped nagging. Draco would have enjoyed the tranquility and peace if it wasn't for the fact that he had just been reminded of something he'd tried to forget. He wanted to skip dinner, of course, for the sake of unwanted attention and the fact that he needed some time alone to sort things out in his head. Above all, he needed to be away from Harry Potter; his presence would only add more pressure to his fragile mind at the moment. He was already feeling angry and frustrated at the thought of Potter's name.

_He's going to pay for this._

"Mr. Malfoy." Madam Pomfrey's voice startled Draco. She was standing a few meters behind him; her eyebrows were raised, questioning his sudden behaviour.

"Sorry. I got lost in my thoughts." Draco resumed his lazy strides as he replied. The woman looked at him for a few more seconds and followed after the Slytherin.

Then again, his hunger could not be suppressed forever. He hadn't taken in much of anything other than water for the last two days. Draco had to admit that he really was famished. Food was one of mankind's three greatest needs for a reason.

The two reached the Great Hall shortly. Draco paused again in front of the door; taking a long, deep breath, the blonde stepped through it.

He saw heads turn at the Ravenclaw table, followed by the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, and then the Slytherins. The casual conversations ceased, and quick, urgent whispers emerged. Draco ignored their stares and continued to stroll leisurely to his table.

"Finally back, are we? I thought we might never see you again," Blaise said half-jokingly.

"Professor Snape gave me permission to stay, but Slytherin would probably crumble to pieces if I don't show my face here tonight." He sat down beside Blaise and Goyle and smirked. "So, here I am."

"Oh, Draco, we missed you!" Pansy Parkinson came running from the other end of the table, and hugged Draco so hard that he was sure the air left in his lungs might not maintain him for very long. Pansy released her grip, a grin on her face. "I was so worried about you! Professor Snape wouldn't let me visit you."

_Oh I'm glad he did__n't._ Draco was barely able to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. Pansy was a very bright girl, but at times she could be very annoying. Other than that, the blonde enjoyed her company quite a lot.

After a few more greetings from his housemates, the murmurs at the Slytherin table came to an end, and the conversations they left off earlier resumed. And that included his friends. Usually, Draco would have been furious if they left him out, but he decided to let it drop for now. He didn't want to be disturbed while having his first and only meal of the day. The blonde picked up his fork and knife and ate quickly. For all he knew, dinner could be over any time now. He needed to distract himself from the things on his mind. In fact, Draco forced himself to look at the food on his plate and _only_ the food on his plate.

Supper was over in twenty minutes, and Draco had been able to clear everything from his plate before the empty dishes became slices of cheesecake.

"Are you all right, Draco?" Pansy, who had been watching Draco for some time now, made her move.

"Pansy, I'm fine," Draco said without looking up.

"You haven't made any sarcastic remarks or shot any insults at those stupid Gryffindors for some time now." Most of the conversations died down. The rest of the Slytherins now turned their attention to the two of them.

"I just grew out of my immaturity, that's all. You don't expect me to run around and yell my head off at them every second of my life, do you? They won't get any brighter anyway." Draco grinned, but it wasn't reflected in his eyes. He let the curve on his lips drop. "We're not children anymore."

"Right." Pansy was clearly not convinced. "Let's drop that matter and talk about something else. What have you been doing the last few months?"

"Waking up, having breakfast, going to class, having lunch, going to more classes, having dinner, doing homework, and sleeping."

"You know what I mean." Pansy stared sternly at the blonde, only Draco stared back with equal carelessness.

"Actually, Pansy, I haven't the slightest idea."

"Do you think I haven't noticed your little…disappearances?" Pansy's voice rose. "It's not just me, you know. All the people seated here have noticed. They just don't want to be hexed for saying something they think they shouldn't be mentioning, that's all. I believe people from other houses have had their suspicions for quite a while as well." She took a deep breath and exhaled. "I'm really worried."

"If you've learned of my 'disappearances,' then you must know that Crabbe and Goyle are always with me. You've got nothing to worry about. I just need some fresh air."

"But, Draco, you've been acting so differently…"

"Look. This is not your business—nor is it anyone else's. It's mine and mine alone." His voice became cold once more, and his eyes gleamed with annoyance, replacing the lazy, carefree expression that was there. "I will repeat myself. I'm fine. Everything's fine. Now if you'll excuse me. I have some unfinished homework to catch up on." Draco spun around and headed for the door. The Slytherins recommenced their conversations, all except for Pansy, whose eyes followed Draco until he left the Great Hall.

88888888

Harry sat between Ron and Seamus, poking at the tiny pieces of carrots on his plate. He constantly found himself shifting his eyes from his housemates' animated conversations to stare at the entrance to the Great Hall. He wondered if Malfoy was still paralysed in the Hospital Wing or merely not wanting to get out of bed and write the essay Snape had assigned the day before the incident. If he had not made the visit to the Infirmary yesterday, Harry would have, without a doubt, happily chosen to believe the latter. However, things seen cannot be unseen, and things known cannot be unknown. He wanted to go to the Infirmary again but remembered that the last two times he went, the Slytherin told him to never show his face there again. Harry's thoughts were broken as he spotted a figure with fair blonde hair marching into the Great Hall with Madame Pomfrey walking just steps behind him. Harry could not find the usual laziness and arrogance on Malfoy's face. He looked rather exhausted, annoyed, and…nervous? All of that was sealed once again as Malfoy took his seat beside Blaise.

After a while, Harry looked away and decided to stick with the food on his plate instead. He stole a last glance at the blonde and continued to work toward finishing the rest of the shepherd's pie on his plate.

The chatting seemed to have stopped in one part of the room. Harry raised his head to look around. His housemates were still talking. He looked at the Hufflepuffs and then at the Ravenclaw table. Nope. Not them either. Then his eyes traced to the last table, the Slytherins, and he saw they were unusually quiet. Just as his eyes rested on that area of the room, Malfoy stood up and, with an air of superiority, left the room.

88888888

It was a quarter to eight when Draco left the Great Hall and headed down to the dungeon. Once reaching the secret passage, he spoke the password and entered. The common room was nearly empty. A small group of third years, who were cuddling on the couch, looked up at the sight of someone entering and immediately began to whisper among themselves as they saw him. Draco ignored them and walked to a table further inside the common room. He sat down on the chair, took out a fine quilt and some parchment, and began writing his Defence Against the Dark Arts essay on Inferi. He was not very eager when it came to homework, but Draco needed something to distract him from all the things on his mind. Desperately.

_Focus, Draco, focus._

The blonde tapped his quill on the parchment. Once. Twice. He lifted the white feather one more time and then let his wrist fall slowly; only this time, the quill did not land an ink blot on the paper. His hand began to scribble furiously on the parchment without even needing to think about how the words came out, pausing only when he needed to dip his quill in the bottle for more ink. Within half an hour, the essay was complete, read, and reread. After making a few minor adjustments, Draco placed his quill down on the table and rolled up his parchment. He stuffed the scroll in his bag and headed for his dormitory. As the blonde placed his things by his bed, he could hear his roommates outside. Seconds later, they opened the door and entered.

"Hey, Draco. Off to bed so soon?" Nott, who spotted Draco standing beside the window, spoke as he approached. "I thought there was some unfinished homework you needed to do."

"Did you think I sat here for half an hour doing nothing?" Draco turned away from the window to face the rest of the Slytherins. Without giving them a chance to ask what had happened during dinner, the blonde moved past his roommates and out of his dormitory. "I'm going out for a bit." He could see Crabbe and Goyle opening their mouths to say something, but he gave them no time to retort. He walked quickly across the common room and marched out the door.

Most students were now back in their common rooms or dormitories. It had been routine for most to spend Sunday nights doing reading and homework. Thankfully, that was also the case today. There was no need to hide from Potter now, unless for some bizarre reason the stupid twit decided to ditch his homework and roam the castle.

For once, Draco had no urge to go anywhere near the seventh floor. He had absolutely no desire to think about the task given to him by the Dark Lord. There was still time left to decide. He spent the next fifteen minutes walking around in the castle, but the pointless strolling only made it more frustrating. He needed to go somewhere open, and he knew from experience that such a place could calm his mind a little. He moved swiftly past the next few corridors. The clock on the tower had just struck nine

_To Hell with curfew. _Draco sneered.

The number of times he had broken the rules this year could probably amount to three months worth of detention, not to mention how many classes he had skipped.

Draco stepped out into the open night. He could feel the wind lashing against his face and body, but he didn't care about the drastic decrease in temperature. He roamed the grounds and minutes later ended up at the Black Lake. The blonde turned his head around lazily. The castle seemed oddly baleful from his angle, silently looming on the hill. The Slytherin looked away and sat down beside an oak by the lake. He looked into the dark water. It was like looking into a black mirror; there was only the reflection of the moon and himself. Draco saw how thin he looked, and the dark circles beneath his eyes only made it worse.

_Oh God. I really do look awful._

The blonde closed his eyes and brought his hands to his forehead, rubbing it gently.

_Had Potter seen how devastated I looked?_

Draco withdrew his hand and leaned back onto the tree.

_Why __in Bloody Hell do I care what Potter thinks, when I should be trying to get him out of my mind._

He had hated Harry Potter ever since first year, when that ungrateful git refused his hand of friendship. That was his first public humiliation. He had loathed the bloody Gryffindor and his friends from that day on. He wanted Potter to feel the same way he had felt in first year, and probably still did, despite what he told Pansy. Over the last six years, it became impossible to content himself with just making Potter embarrassed. He wanted Potter to hate him as much as he hated the Gryffindor. It began in third year, when he tried to get that stupid Hippogriff killed and the giant oaf sacked. Then came the Triwizard Tournament when he made those "Potter Stinks" badges and tried to get everyone in the school to wear them, just to embarrass Potter. In fifth year, he'd become Umbridge's favourite, even though he utterly hated her, so that he could use his power to hunt down the Gryffindors.

Finally, he remembered the event that had happened on the Hogwarts Express. He'd spotted Potter sneaking into their cabin, cast his Full-Body Bind on the Gryffindor, broke his nose, and once again covered him with his Invisibility Cloak to be taken back to London. Out of all his "witty plans," this was the most daring, and it should probably have been the most satisfying one out of them all. But it hadn't been. He did not feel the triumph. There was a different sensation, something that had never been there before. When he felt his foot on Potter's face, he'd felt a sting in his chest—almost like he was hurting himself. Deep down, he regretted doing it. He always believed that he detested Potter and his presence, but he began to waver. Did he really hate Potter, or had he never stepped out of his embarrassment? Was it all for the attention—to put himself in the spotlight? Was it jealousy of Potter and his friends that drove him to his actions? Had he never grown out of his childhood obsession with the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived? Did he still long to be his friend and wish that it was him sitting next to the Gryffindor instead of the Weasel and the Mudblood? Draco asked himself, over and over again, but he was not able to come up with a definite answer. Maybe he wasn't trying hard enough because he was afraid of the truth. He was perfectly fine with the way things were right now, staying in the dark and all that, he really was.

…Or was he?

A gust of wind made the leaves and grass dance in the air, and Draco finally realized how cold the night was. He folded his arms in front of his chest and huddled closer to the tree. He did not want to go back to his dormitory, at least not yet. The blonde leaned back a bit and closed his eyes, listening to the wind. He could hear the rustling of leaves as the breeze went from tree to tree.

…_Malfoy…_

Draco opened his eyes. He looked around and saw nothing but endless green hills and the black water by his feet. Just when he leaned back down, thinking it was his paranoia, the whispering came again, clearer this time.

…_Draco…_

The blonde froze and turned pale at the sound of the hiss. Scene after scene raced across his mind. The slender, inhuman figure was standing before him, looking down at him with his fearful crimson eyes. The slit-like nose breathed calmly, with a twisted curve of his lips intended to be a smile. Those long, white fingers reached under the black cloak, searching, and finally took hold of what they were looking for and pointed its tip at him. Then came the sudden jolt of pain, like his body was ripped in half, and he heard his own screams over and over again.

"No..."_He's not supposed to be here. He can't be here._

…_Draco Malfoy…_


	3. Tricks of His Own

**Author's Note:** Thanks for those who reviewed! (It gives me the motivation to keep on going. xD) Sorry for the late update...I'm really slow, I know. Well, here's chapter three.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters, as they belong to J. K. Rowing. No money is being made from this.

**Summary: **AU HBP, HPDM slash. Harry decided to visit Draco in the hospital after the Sectumsempra incident, and finds an unexpected side of the young Slytherin. Realization hits the two of them as they became friends and something more. But time is running out.

**Edit:** This chapter has been edited

* * *

**Chapter Three — Tricks of His Own**

The nice thing about being the first to finish dinner was getting back to the common room earlier than everyone else, which guaranteed the most comfortable spots for doing homework. Once they spoke the password and walked through the frame, Harry took a seat at the table closest to the fireplace while Ron went upstairs to get their things. Unlike Hermione, who had finished long ago, they still needed to complete their Defense Against the Dark Arts essay. Ron came back moments later with Harry's bag in one hand and his books and parchments in the other. Once he placed everything onto the table, they unrolled their parchments and sighed at almost exactly the same time.

"How much more do you still have to write?" Harry asked without taking his eyes off his paper.

"Everything other than the title and my name." Ron winced, and Harry smiled.

"If only Hermione was here to see this. Oh, she'd go crazy!" the brunet teased. Hermione was thankfully out of earshot. He pulled out a quill from inside his bag and then reached in again to search for his ink.

"I can't believe I'm wasting another Sunday night doing assignments." Ron spoke as he flipped through his textbook, a look of disgust on his face. "How about you?"

"A bit more work on the body paragraph and a conclusion." The redhead glared. "What? I had to do something when Hermione was with us. I can't stand one minute with her when she's nagging."

The boys smiled at each other and became quiet after that. Ron scratched his head once in a while, and Harry tapped the quill against the wooden desk. Other than that, the room was pretty much silent. The quietness was broken when footsteps sounded outside the common room, followed by giggles and murmurs of the password. It was no doubt Dean and Seamus returning from their meal.

"Another Sunday spent doing homework." Seamus sighed. "I don't think I'll be able to escape that fate either."

"Go get your work. The faster you finish that essay, the faster you can start blabbing again," Dean said, already moving toward the staircase. Seamus pulled a chair and sat across from Harry and Ron. After making sure that Dean was out of sight, Seamus wheeled around and continued where he had left off.

"Those professors really don't have anything better to do except assign us work. Don't they realize that they'll be the ones marking all these papers in the end? Why can't they just make it easier on themselves? Sitting at their desks, having a hot cup of tea…wouldn't that be so much nicer?"

"Seamus, leave my brother and Harry out of your ranting." Seamus jumped at Ginny's comment. "If you don't want to finish your essay, that's fine. Let Snape skin you, for all I care. But I believe there are certain individuals who do not wish to be tortured to death over some stupid assignment." Seamus stood up, both hands in the air, and mouthed, "I'll leave, I'll leave." He ran up the stairs and disappeared. Ginny looked at Ron, then at Harry, and smiled. "Now that Finnigan's gone, good luck with your essays." She eyed Harry a few seconds longer before following her friends back to the girl's dormitory. Harry traced their steps as they left the common room and then buried his head behind the textbook once more. It was not long before Dean and Seamus returned to join Ron and Harry again.

"How's the essay going?"

"Not very well," Harry replied. Ron rolled his eyes.

"You're as good as done, mate!"

"I bet you've been procrastinating again, Ron." Dean smirked knowingly, seeing Ron grimace at the comment. "Even with Hermione as your lady? This is just too hard to believe." Ron flushed a colour that matched his hair. The other boys just laughed.

"Speaking of essays," Seamus spoke once the laughter died down, "do you think Malfoy's actually going to write it?" After the incident in the boys' bathroom, almost every conversation revolved around either Harry or Malfoy.

"That little snake," Ron snorted with still a tinge of blush on his cheeks. "Always Snape's favourite. I can't believe he let the dimwit stay in the Hospital Wing for three days! I bet Snape told that bloody twat he didn't need to write the essay, either. I wonder what's next."

"Now that you mention it, he skipped Charms and Transfiguration twice last week," Dean said.

Seamus nodded.

"And how do you explain the dark circles under his eyes?" Harry asked absent-mindedly, while continuing to compose his body paragraph. Noticing the sudden drop in volume, he looked up, only to find the rest of the boys staring at him with raised eyebrows. "What?"

"How do you notice something like that? From what I remember, you were never the type to dig for details," Seamus said, half curious and half amused. "This is Malfoy we're talking about."

Harry frowned this time. "I thought it was kind of obvious."

"Or maybe you spend so much time staring at him that these things just get burned into your head." The boys turned at the sound of Hermione's voice. "Harry, you're taking this way too seriously. I'm not saying that he's not up to no good, but how can you be so sure?"

"With all that evidence?" Harry asked.

"That's not evidence. You're just making assumptions."

"Now you're taking Malfoy's side, are you?"

"I wasn't taking anyone's side, Ron." Hermione glared at Ron and then faced Harry again. "I just didn't want you to spend so much time on this. You have so much to do already. You can't even manage all of your classes, not to mention the extra lessons you're receiving from Dumbledore. I don't want you to get stressed over something you don't have to worry about. Besides, Dumbledore said not to dig into it anymore, didn't he?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. The three of them had discussed this too many times already; each discussion came down to the same thing. If they thought this wasn't a serious matter, then so be it. But he wasn't about to give up just yet. In fact, he was going to prove them wrong once and for all. After quickly scribbling down his concluding sentence, Harry rolled up his parchment and stuffed it into his bag, excused himself from his friends, and marched straight to his dorm.

The boy dumped his bag on the bed and began digging through his trunk. Tossing aside shirts, textbooks, and unmatched socks, Harry finally found what he was looking for near the bottom of the trunk. He pulled the old thing from under his tee-shirts and aimed his drawn wand at the yellowed paper.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." Ink began to scatter across the parchment and in seconds turned into words only too familiar to Harry. He unfolded the paper and saw small dots moving on the page. A large number of students were gathered in each of the four common rooms, and quite a few were positioned in the Library. Instinctively, Harry went to the section that showed the seventh floor. He carefully searched the parchment and made sure he didn't miss any small corridors or hidden passages, but Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. Thinking that the Slytherin had probably escaped to the Room of Requirement right after dinner, Harry frowned. He was about to tap his wand on the map again when he noticed the name "Draco Malfoy" floating near the staircase leading to the seventh floor. He watched anxiously as the tiny ink dot moved closer to the stairs.

_Three… two… one…_

The label floated past the stairs without any hint of stopping or hesitation. It moved across the corridor and made a turn, disappearing down the flight of stairs to the fifth floor. This was new.

_If Malfoy's not going to the Room of Requirements, then where is he going?_

Struck by curiosity, Harry checked the clock at the far end of the room. It was ten minutes until nine. He pulled the Invisibility Cloak from beneath his pillow. Placing the parchment into his robe pocket, Harry swung the cloak over himself and tiptoed his way down the hall. The common room was crammed with people. He chose his steps carefully in order not to bump into anyone and tried to avoid any potential risk of exposing himself.

"Ow!" The cry startled Harry. He looked down and saw he had accidentally stepped on Seamus's foot. "What did you do that for, Dean? I was just joking!"

"What are you talking about?"

"You just stepped on my foot!" Harry rushed to the other side of the room immediately—almost knocking Lavender over in the process—and climbed out of the portrait hole. Once outside, the boy broke into a run in fear that someone might have discovered him.

He finally slowed his pace when he thought he was a good distance away from the common room. Harry took out the Marauder's Map again and found Malfoy on the fourth floor. The boy searched the page again and found his own name written legibly across a label not too far from where Malfoy was. He quickly traced the routes and shortcuts and then hastily followed after the Slytherin.

Harry caught up with Malfoy in no time, keeping a discreet distance between him and the other boy. The blonde didn't seem to change his pace, which assured Harry that Malfoy hadn't realized he was being followed. Yet. He trailed after him as the Slytherin descended to the third floor and continued to stroll carelessly. The tower bell sounded, but Malfoy had no intention of returning to the Dungeon. Instead, he walked to the closest stairs and marched straight to first floor, proceeding to an exit that led out to the grounds. Harry was puzzled; this turn of events gave him all the more reason to pursue the Slytherin.

The cold wind hit the brunet as he stepped out into the night, and he pulled the cloak a little closer to him. He managed to spot Malfoy; the blonde moved as he did in the castle, not even bothered in the slightest by the drop in temperature. Malfoy moved away from the pathway and onto the grass hill. Harry knew immediately where they were heading, but he had no clue as to why the Slytherin intended on going there.

As they reached the top of the hill, the brunet saw the tranquil black water that lay just beyond. The blonde turned, making Harry stop in his tracks. For a second he thought he had been discovered, but then he realized that Malfoy was not actually staring at him but at the castle. Finally, the blonde blinked and drew his weary gaze away. Harry cautiously followed him to the edge of the lake. Malfoy stopped by an oak tree and sat down, pushing his feet against a nearby rock. Harry picked a spot a few meters from the other boy and took a seat. The blonde rubbed his hand across his forehead tiredly and leaned closer to the Black Lake. With a jolt, the Slytherin leaned back onto the trunk. Tension began to build between his brows the moment his back made contact with the rough wooden bark. The wrinkles above his nose were eased little by little, and finally the blonde opened his eyes. Harry saw the raw emotions hidden within the stormy grey; it was more or less of a phenomenon, seeing Malfoy shed away the layers of armor he wrapped himself with in front of everyone. Nobody could have guessed who was beneath all that glamour, lonely and so distant from the world.

The wind picked up, blowing the leaves and grass high above the ground. The Gryffindor held onto the cloak even tighter and kept his head down, hoping to keep himself unexposed. He returned his attention to the blonde when the wind died down. The grey orbs became dark and clouded—dead almost—like life was being sifted away. Harry saw him shiver. Whether it was from the cold or something else, he could not tell, but his intuition told him that something was wrong. He hurried over to where the Slytherin sat, no longer caring if he was discovered or not. Up close, the brunet saw fright and pain creeping up the boy's face.

"Malfoy!" Harry shook the blonde as he spoke. "Malfoy, snap out of it!" The blonde made no response at first and then, as if digesting the words, the anxiety lightened on his face, followed by the easing of the shivers. He snapped his head upward abruptly, eyes coming into focus again. The sudden motion made Harry jump, and the Invisibility Cloak slipped out of his grip.

Malfoy looked surprised when he saw the familiar unruly dark hair and round glasses appear out of nowhere. Time seemed to stop as the boys stared at each other, not knowing what to do next. Without warning, the blonde pushed Harry away and stood up to collect himself.

"Why the hell are you out here?" Malfoy demanded, patting the dirt off his black robe.

"Why are you?" Harry shot back, realizing that he shouldn't be in the position to be asked questions.

The blonde ceased his action suddenly and narrowed his eyes in alarm. "Did you follow me here?" Harry made no reply and continued to stare at the Slytherin.

"I'm going to ask you again, Potter." The boy slipped his hand inside his pocket and took out his wand. "Did you follow me here?"

"What if I did? Why do you care so much?"

Malfoy lowered his wand, shutting his eyes in frustration. He brought the wand in front of his chest, playing with the wood and feeling its texture in his fingers. The blonde looked tired all of a sudden, and the dark circles made him look even more fragile.

"You know what? I won't bother asking." He stopped fiddling with the wand and placed it back into his pockets. "Just leave."

"I'll leave if you come inside with me." Malfoy's eyebrows shot up, and he was about to make a retort, but Harry continued. "You and I both know that it's past curfew." He whispered _Tempus_ to indicate the time—half past nine. "And do consider the fact that Filch, Mrs. Norris, and a few other professors are all somewhere in the castle patrolling the floors right now."

"I didn't see anyone while I was out roaming."

"They usually leave their offices five minutes after curfew." The Slytherin quirked an eyebrow. "If you don't trust me, you can try walking back in right now. There's no way you'll make it to the Dungeon before being spotted."

"And how would you know all this?"

Harry was silenced for a moment. Telling him about the Marauder's Map was definitely not an option. Even though he didn't dislike Malfoy, he couldn't guarantee that the blonde would not use the knowledge against him. Knowing him, it was probably the first thing he'd do. Harry rubbed his forehead and replied. "It doesn't matter, Malfoy. The point is, they're out." He paused, staring into the grey crystals. They were slightly more readable than when Harry had attempted to interpret them a few nights ago. Perhaps it was the condition Malfoy was in that made it possible to reach into his mind. Confusion was what he saw first, mixed with surprise. Then as he looked deeper, he saw embarrassment and sadness. Harry felt a surge of guilt rising. It stung him to see those emotions flicker across the blonde's eyes. He couldn't help but empathize with the boy and decided that he didn't want to leave the blonde in his state, distraught and devastated. Harry sighed.

"Come on. I'll walk you back to your common room."

"As if I'll have the protection of Godric Gryffindor." Malfoy snorted.

"No. But you will have the protection of my Invisibility Cloak."

"Lovely. And what would you like in return for this?"

"Nothing."

"That's hard to believe, considering we're a pain in each other's arse."

Harry shrugged, trying to look casual. "Just keep your mouth shut. I don't want to end up in detention because of this. I don't think you'd want to either. If I remember correctly, you tried to get us into trouble by telling McGonagall about our little visit to Hagrid's hut and ended up in detention yourself."

"If you mean that little incident in first year, then you were right; your memory hasn't failed you, yet. But, I did learn a valuable lesson that day, and that was to think before I act."

"So? What will it be?"

Malfoy frowned a little as the Gryffindor shook off his provocation. His expression became impassive, and Harry thought that perhaps the Slytherin was considering his offer.

"I think I'd like to take my chances." Malfoy marched toward the old castle, shoving Harry aside as he walked past. The dark-haired boy stumbled back, surprised. It took him some time to recover from the pure shock and realize that Malfoy was already far from the grounds. Harry pulled out the map to check the location of the blonde, swearing under his breath as he did so. He spotted Malfoy just a few feet away from the entrance to the castle; Filch approaching him from a corridor to the left. He tucked the parchment inside his robe pocket, took hold of his Invisibility Cloak, and ran up the hill.

Upon reaching the hall, Harry found the Slytherin right away and ran, trying to keep his footsteps as quiet as possible. He took hold of Malfoy's black robe, and before the blonde could react, pulled him behind a rusted armor and covered them both under the Invisibility Cloak.

"What the hell is—"

"Shhh!" Harry placed his hand over the other boy's mouth to keep him from speaking, which resulted in vicious struggles and muffled protests. "Filch is coming!" Malfoy became still the instant those words left Harry's mouth. The brunet kept his hand on the other boy's mouth nevertheless. He motioned Malfoy closer and made sure their feet were covered completely. As they huddled, they could hear footsteps drawing near and a faint glowing light that illuminated the darkness enveloping them. Filch appeared from behind the corridor, limping as he took each step; Mrs. Norris followed him lazily. When they passed the armor, the black cat turned and gazed at Harry straight in the eye, as if she could see right through the invisible fabric, and purred.

"What is it, Mrs. Norris?" Filch turned around and saw his cat staring at the armor. "Is something there?" She purred again, and he limped to the statue. Harry nudged the blonde to move to the right, so they both shuffled their feet to get out of Filch's way. But, Mrs. Norris' eyes never left them. She moved her head and mewed. The hunchback wheeled around to look at his cat and then turned to face the direction her eyes led. Harry began to panic with Filch's outstretched arms coming closer. There was no way he could get out of this one.

He heard a sudden clash and looked over his shoulder. The old armor had fallen to the ground, scattering its pieces all over the floor.

"I always knew cats could predict things, but not this well," the man muttered under his breath. He quickly fixed the armor and lifted his cat from the ground. "Come on, Mrs. Norris. We have a long night ahead of us." The black cat held her gaze on the two boys and then turned her head to her master and purred. Filch picked up his lantern with his free hand and limped off into another dark hallway. The corridor became dark once again.

Harry felt cold fingers on his skin prying at his hands. He had forgotten that he was still covering Malfoy's mouth and quickly let go.

"What do you want now, Potter." A frown crept up to Harry's brows.

"Are you mad, Malfoy? I warned you! There are people roaming the floors right now!"

"And I said that I'd like to take that chance." Malfoy replied. His voice was calm and polite, with an expressionless face that revealed nothing. His close resemblance to Lucius Malfoy was stunning, and it made Harry shiver. "If you don't have anything else to say, I'll be leaving now." The blonde lifted the cloak and stepped out, no longer invisible. He turned on his heel and walked on. Harry dropped the cloak to his shoulders, leaned forward, and seized the Slytherin's wrist. Malfoy turned around slowly; impatience seeped through his mask.

"Potter, if you're worried about me tattletaling, then rest assured I won't. Now kindly sod off and let me go." The blonde wrenched at his wrist, but it did not budge.

"You still haven't answered my question. Why were you outside?"

Malfoy eyed the brunet evenly. "What I do with my life is none of your fucking business, Potter. You should try keeping up with your school work rather than spending your precious time stalking me. Now scoot to your cozy dorm, and I'll pretend I never saw you." He pulled his arm free at last, rubbing his wrist.

"Malfoy, I know you're up to something, and I intend to find—" In less than a second, Malfoy had his wand in his hand, its tip pointing at Harry.

"_Petrificus Totalus_!" Malfoy hissed. The Gryffindor became still at once, his mouth slightly agape. "You look great as a statue, you know that Potter?" the blonde said, looking pleased. "Actually, you would look even better if you switched spots with that old rusty armor, don't you think?" Malfoy scoffed. "Oh, I forgot. You can't speak right now. Well, this should be fun: The Boy-Who-Stood." The blonde raised his wand again, aiming it at the armor and moving it to a nearby pillar. He then levitated Harry onto the platform and put away his wand. He picked up the Invisibility Cloak and examined it, looking at Harry with a smug smile.

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"Don't worry, Potter. I might seem desperate but not to the point where I have to steal. Though I must say, this cloak is quite a nifty thing." He flung the fabric onto the armor and saw it slowly dissolve into thin air. "See how nice I am? If the full-body bind wears off, you can even try to get back to Gryffindor Tower. Let's see. The spell should take about two hours to come off. Have fun!"

Draco strode past portrait after portrait, keeping his footsteps as soft as possible so he wouldn't wake any of them. Potter was a twit, an extremely annoying and obtuse one, too. His appearance just now was a complete surprise to the blonde, despite his instinctive denials. As the initial shock faded, he felt anger growing in the pit of his stomach. He was angry about the fact that Potter had been following him ever since the beginning of the year. He was angry about how trapped and helpless he was. He was angry about his life, about the finite boundaries and countless restrictions, and why everything had to involve Harry Potter one way or another. He was angry. And miserable.

Draco knew why Potter had offered to walk him back to his common room. He spotted pity and sympathy in those emerald eyes, and he hated it. It made him feel weak and undetermined. He must have looked extremely pathetic if he were eliciting empathy from his rivals—especially Harry Potter. There should have been sniggers and humiliation and a fight where they took turns landing punches on each other. But instead there was only silence and a green that burned when looked into.

He had hoped that Potter would be sensible enough to see that he did not want to be disturbed, but clearly he wasn't. It was more frustrating for Draco when the idiot tried to help him. He'd spent almost the whole year wandering the castle at night and had, obviously, grasped the locations of several secret passageways; he could have escaped Filch easily if Saint Potter had not showed up to save the day. He had hoped to lighten his mood after the walk; he could not be more wrong.

_Malfoy, I know you're up to something. _The voice rang repeatedly in Draco's head. He knew Potter followed him only because he knew something was brewing, but it still hurt. He had only gone outside for some fresh air. He had done nothing wrong, yet the accusation was like acid and made his stomach churn uncomfortably. Hell, none of this was his intention. He had no choice, none at all.

Draco shook his head. There was no way the Gryffindor would believe him anyway. He examined the sleeping portraits to distract himself from his thoughts. One of the figures in the picture on the left had woken, bleary-eyed. The man in the painting sighed and stared at the blonde. He thought he had seen a faint scarlet emerging from underneath the pupils; his breathe hitched immediately. The boy blinked and the dreadful colour disappeared from the portrait's eyes. The figure looked at him, confused, and went back to sleep. The blonde rubbed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, then quickly regretting doing so.

Dead bodies and blood entered his vision as soon as his eyelids shut. He saw broken limbs scattered across the earth and once in a while a stranger's face. He tripped over something and looked down. It was the face of his mother, staring wide-eyed into nothingness. Her robes were torn, and her face was smeared with blood. He found his father's body a few feet away, and Draco fell to the ground, screaming without a voice. He felt the hair on the back of neck stand as an oddly familiar coldness approached him. He tried to get up, tried to run for his life, but his body gave no response. The Dark Lord was behind him; he could sense his presence. Draco knew what was coming. The Dark Lord was a being of solitude; the Dark Lord needed no one.

"_Avada Kedavra."_

The world went black.


	4. A Bloody Mess

**Author's Note:** Thank you for the reviews! This chapter came out in a flash, but I had to make a few changes here and there. (And also, the coming two weeks will be exam week, so the next update will take a bit longer.) Now sit back and enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters, as they belong to J. K. Rowing. No money is being made from this.

**Summary: **AU HBP, HPDM slash. Harry decided to visit Draco in the hospital after the Sectumsempra incident, and finds an unexpected side of the young Slytherin. Realization hits the two of them as they became friends and something more. But time is running out.

**Edit:**This chapter had been edited.

* * *

**Chapter Four — A Bloody Mess**

Draco felt the sunlight hot against his face and opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the white ceiling only too recognizable. He was in the Hospital Wing. Again.

He spotted a figure at the far side of the room, examining a few bottles of potions. The blonde repositioned himself to sit up against the headboard, only to find a sore back. At the sound of rustling sheets, the man looked up and turned around. He dropped the potions gently onto the table and walked over.

"How are you feeling?"

"A bit sore," Draco replied, taking the glass of water on the side of the bed and downing it in one gulp.

"What happened last night?"

"I went out, and I forgot the time," Draco said, frowning.

"That still doesn't explain why you passed out."

Snape's voice remained toneless, but Draco knew better. Whenever he asked questions, he was either curious or concerned. Draco also knew that when it came to breaking the rules, his godfather was never curious enough to find out the reason behind it. Of course, the blonde didn't intend to let him find out. It was not so much that he _didn't_ want to, but he _couldn't_ — not after Aunt Bellatrix had made him swear an Unbreakable Vow; his mother had asked his Godfather to do the same, so it only seemed fair to her. The Vow prevented him from passing any information that involved himself to Severus, so he settled with a response out of the many he had prepared for this occasion.

"I was tired, Severus." It was not the most convincing one, but it would do.

"That's Professor Snape." The man fixed his eyes on the boy for a long moment. Draco knew that Snape was an excellent Legilimens and averted his eyes quickly. The potions master noticed, and knowing it wouldn't solve anything, looked away. The man walked back to the table to pick up a bottle containing a thick blue liquid and strolled back to Draco's bed. "I found Potter in the place of an armor last night. Was this your doing?"

The blonde made no reply. He had been this man's godson long enough to know when he was about to start a long lecture.

"However much I find it amusing, it is absolutely unacceptable to see this kind of behaviour from you." Draco stared at the white blanket above his lap, refusing to meet the man's eyes. "Have I not emphasized enough at Slughorn's party? Hexing Potter in the middle of the night. What were you thinking?"

The blonde didn't even try to retort, to the man's surprise. His gaze now settled on his fine fingers, looking at them as if they were the most interesting things. Snape sighed. "You should be glad that I found you in the halls." Snape held Draco's glass in one hand while he tilted the container to pour its content he gave the half-filled cup to the blonde and motioned him to drink. "If you were found by any other professor, it would have cost you and your house dearly. I will let you off easy this time." Draco took the cup to his mouth and let the thick substance slide down his throat. "You will be serving one night of detention along with Potter."

Draco was about to spurt out the potion in his mouth, but he restrained himself just in time. As a Malfoy, such rude behaviours were simply not allowed, and he was not about to start now. He forced the potion down, feeling the gooey substance on the inside of his esophagus, and placed the glass onto the table with a tiny thud. "Excuse me? Professor did you just—"

"No, you're not hearing things. And no, I'm not making a mistake. You are serving detention with Potter."

Draco gaped at the man for two whole seconds. Realizing that it made him completely vulnerable, he looked back down at his hands again. Severus had never given detention to him before. He was always the one getting him _out_ of detentions. The blonde had a million reasons why Snape should not be giving him detention—at least not with Harry Potter—but he was too tired to retort.

"When?"

"Eight o'clock, tonight. Outside my office." Snape took a step forward and placed his hand on the blonde's shoulders. Draco flinched and stiffened. He mentally kicked himself for having shown such a vulnerable reaction. The boy loosened his muscles slightly and concentrated hard to gather his thoughts at the deepest layers of his mind. He looked up at the man and prepared for the familiar invasion.

There came none.

"Draco." The irritation in his godfather's voice was gone, replaced by softness instead. "If you don't want me to find out about your plans, that is fine; I won't interfere. I merely wanted to ensure your safety." Snape released his grip and walked back to the table filled with cauldrons and flasks. He picked up the bottles and placed them back onto the shelves by the table and then removed the contents in the cauldrons and containers with a wave of his wand. "I want that essay handed to me before then." The man's voice resumed to normal. He looked at Draco one last time and strode out of the Infirmary.

Minutes later, footsteps sounded outside the hall. The blonde glanced up at the clock and saw that it was almost time for their last period before dinner. _Arithmancy,_ he thought idly. He got up to dress himself and waited for the noise outside to fade before finally stepping out of the Hospital Wing.

Draco was not going to go to class. Arithmancy was easy enough for him; he'd even finished his term project already. Instead, the boy headed for the Dungeon to pick up his Potions textbook to do some more studying. At this rate, he would never be able to beat Hermione Granger, and beating Harry Potter was near impossible. Potter's drastic increase in his ability to brew potions was the last thing he had expected. Usually, the Gryffindor couldn't even follow instructions correctly, let alone brew a perfect Draught of the Living Dead. The blonde waved the thoughts away quickly and scolded himself for even thinking about Potter. There had been nothing but trouble when things involved Boy Wonder. The Slytherin reached the common room. Hurrying to his dormitory, he picked up the few books he needed and made his way to the library.

Upon reaching his destination, Draco seated himself at a table by the windows. It wasn't where he usually sat, but the location provided an almost silent environment, plus it was quite well-hidden. He opened his Potions textbook, flipping through the pages as he quickly scanned the text. He had finished reading half of its contents already, but he'd only picked topics and theories that were required for the upcoming lessons. Unlike Potions in the past, classes taught by Slughorn made his interest in the subject wane more or less. The man's disinterest in him and his personal background was one thing, but looking down on him as if he didn't deserve to be in Advanced Potions was another. If Potions hadn't been his favourite subject, Draco would have never tolerated one second in that class.

His eyes caught sight of Veritaserum, and he decided to take a peek. After reading the ingredients and instructions, Draco snorted; the potion hadn't been as complex as he thought it would be. Most of the ingredients are restricted by the Ministry, but they could easily be bought at Knockturn Alley. The only difficulty was that it would take a full month before Veritaserum was ready for use. Draco found it absurd that the Ministry would consider such a potion off limits. He concluded that not much could be done with it, so he skipped a few pages and began on Everlasting Elixirs.

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Harry stormed out of the Transfiguration classroom as soon as Professor McGonagall dismissed then. A free period would provide exactly what he needed: being left alone. His mind was consumed by anger; he could feel it running through his every nerve. The Swear List he kept in the back of his head only made matters worse. _Stupid dimwit…ungrateful brat…useless idiot…._

Ron and Hermione didn't help either. With them, it was always interrogations and questions and accusations. For Merlin's sake, he wasn't a bloody criminal! Other than sneaking out after curfew, which they often did since their first year, Harry didn't think he had done anything wrong.

Snape was the one who found him, after being petrified for nearly an hour, when the cloak had slipped from his head. The bastard asked why he had been out after curfew and why he was in such a state. When Harry told him, the man only sneered.

"The Boy-Who-Lived can't even fight off a Full Body-Bind Curse. Pity." After that, Snape had taken off twenty points from his house, told him that he would be serving detention, and followed him until he had reached the Gryffindor common room before leaving. Once inside, Hermione and Ron looked at him as if they were about to throw knives at him. He began explaining, hoping for some understanding from his two best friends. Three sentences later, Ron cut him off abruptly.

"Bloody Hell! What were you thinking, mate, saving Malfoy's arse? You must be barking mad!"

"Let's not argue over Ron's statement," Hermione spoke next. "First of all, sneaking out like that was an extremely foolish thing to do, especially without telling us about it. Secondly, Malfoy asked to be left alone, so you should have just let him be. Whether he gets caught or not, it was his choice to take. Like I said earlier, there's no solid proof that he's got something up his sleeve. Even if you were sure that he was making some sort of evil plan, we have to know what he's doing exactly."

Harry made every effort not to get irritated and finally managed to finish his explanation. He also told them that he would be waking up early tomorrow to get his Invisibility Cloak, which caused another round of scolding.

He did get up early the next morning to retrieve his cloak. It was a good thing he still had the Marauder's Map with him; without it he would have surely been caught three times. It took him a good ten minutes to find the Invisibility Cloak though, and he barely managed to escape the fate of being discovered by Professor McGonagall.

Malfoy was not present at breakfast or at Potions. It was only during lunch that news of the Slytherin reached him. The blonde was apparently at the Infirmary, still unconscious.

Those who knew about last night's incident made assumptions about what happened. The most popular rumor was that Harry had hexed his rival, although the reason varied from person to person. This enraged the Gryffindor even more. He was the victim, for heaven's sake, and he was the one who received detention.

Harry reached Gryffindor Tower and climbed the stairs two at a time, pausing only when waiting for the staircase to shift. When he finally reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, he threw the password at her and walked in. There were a handful of seventh-years in the common room. Most of them were focused on their tasks, while some looked up. Harry walked to the table in the far corner and pulled out his Transfiguration assignment. He took out his textbook to dig for the necessary information. Minutes later, the boy found himself reading the same paragraph over and over again, staring at the familiar words yet not taking anything in, so he finally gave up. The burnet took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Concentration was usually hard enough, but Harry was sure that he could not accomplish anything in such a state. He put away his things, picked himself up from the chair, and walked up the flight of stairs.

He dropped his bag on the floor once he reached his dorm and decided that maybe he could nap for a while. Hopefully, he could get over his issues before Charms class started. Kicking off his shoes, the Gryffindor climbed into bed. He shut his eyes to block out the world, hoping sleep would take him soon.

Memories of last night flooded his head, playing themselves like a movie on the back of his eyelids. The dull grey eyes snapping back into focus, becoming veiled once more. Cold, polite words and an expression so reserved. Malicious actions.

There was not a single exchange of acknowledgement, nor anything close in that case from Malfoy. Harry had helped him. Twice. The favour had been returned with a sneer and a Full Body-Bind Curse. Harry knew better than to expect Malfoy to be grateful, yet he could not help but linger on the blonde's rejections. There was an odd sensation in hearing those words: confusion, frustration, and a bunch of other emotions he could not identify. His chest tingled and he felt as if tiny ants were crawling beneath his skin.

_I'm probably going insane_, Harry thought. Maybe the shock and pain of losing Sirius had finally caused him to lose his senses. Even if Harry didn't completely detest the blonde, they had been rivals ever since the first day at Hogwarts. The Slytherin had done copious damage to him and his friends over the past few years and caused them more trouble than they could handle, while still showing no sign of regret whatsoever. In fact, it seemed pretty reasonable to jinx Malfoy all the way to the moon and back as a price for his actions. Yet despite all that, Harry still reached his hand out to Malfoy. He had even felt a little hopeful. No one in his right mind would do such a thing for their enemy.

Sighing, he glanced at the small clock on the table. There was a good fifteen minutes before Charms class began, but Harry dragged himself out of bed anyway. He decided to take a walk around the castle, which would serve a far better purpose than sitting in bed, staring into thin space and doing absolutely nothing. The boy searched for his Charms textbook and replaced it with the Transfiguration textbook and assignment in his bag. After making sure he had everything with him, he took off.

Harry descended the stairs almost lazily. He reached the third floor, turned a corner, and found himself at the Hospital Wing. Hogwarts rearranges itself spontaneously and randomly, but he still frowned at the sudden change in structure even after being here for six years.

Madame Pomfrey stepped out of the Infirmary and continued down the hall without noticing Harry. The Gryffindor suddenly remembered about Malfoy and decided to approach the room. When he stood steps away from the door, he heard someone speak. The voice was definitely Snape's, with a mixture of impatience and frustration. The boy stepped closer, and he saw that the doors were open just enough for him to see what was going on inside. He peered through the thin line, noticing the greasy-haired figure pouring some kind of potion into a glass, all the while lecturing in that oily, disgusting tone. Beside him was Malfoy, sitting in bed looking down at his lap.

"…let you off easy this time. You will be serving one night of detention along with Potter." The blonde looked as if he was going to spit out the potion he'd just taken. Harry felt the muscles on his face maneuver themselves, forming a smug smile. He never expected the day to come when he would see Draco Malfoy utterly speechless in front of Snape, torn between retorting and acceptance. As a result, the blonde gave in.

Harry kept listening and found himself more and more satisfied with Snape and Malfoy's reactions. The anger dulled, and there was instead amusement and content. Then he saw the tall, dark-haired man walking closer to the blonde and placing a hand in his shoulder. The boy started at the touch, and an unrecognizable emotion surfaced. The feelings were swept from his face in the next few seconds, leaving it expressionless, and the boy looked up.

"Draco." The words were tender, much too tender for someone like Snape. Harry shuddered, a bit surprised but mostly disgusted. The rest of the sentence was drowned out. Whether it was due to the change in volume or other reasons, Harry was not sure. Malfoy nodded in acknowledgement, but he was not looking particularly happy or worried. A surge of what seemed like numbness took over Harry's rational mind. He was feeling…irritated, but he had no clue as to why. The Gryffindor made the assumption that it had something to do with the way Snape spoke. After all, the old, over-grown bat had never reacted this way towards anyone until now. But somehow he was under the impression that this was not all of it.

Harry managed to push away from the door. He moved away from the Hospital Wing as quietly as possible, dragging himself in the direction of the Charms classroom.

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Draco walked down the flights of stairs. He left the library after feeling satisfied with the amount of work he had done. Dinner had started twenty minutes ago, but at the moment the blonde had no desire to eat. He walked into the familiar, dimly-lit dungeon, spoke the password, and entered the common room. As expected, almost all of the Slytherins had gone to dinner. A few of them had stayed behind. They had already had their meal during a free period or busied themselves with various other activities, like homework, reading, games, and...

"Blaise, get your tongue out of her mouth this instant, unless you want to lay in bed for the next week," Draco said. The words had done their magic; Blaise moved away from the girl, whom he had pushed against the wall—and she turned out to be Daphne Greengrass. Although Blaise had already seated himself comfortably on the sofa, the poor thing was still standing there with her back against the wall. She glanced from Blaise to Draco, then back, and ran toward the girl's dormitory.

"Oh look. You scared her away."

"No complaints, Zabini. It's not like you don't do this every day," Draco teased. Who would have thought that Blaise Zabini, of all people, was Slytherin's ultimate playboy? Most people would have related the title with Draco, but just because he seemed most involved in pranks and daring stunts didn't mean that he was entitled to have everything. Of course, he had flings with some Slytherins and a few Ravenclaws, but it was nothing compared to Blaise's experience in this area.

"Care to tell me what happened?" Blaise changed the subject. Draco smiled.

"Later. I have detention with Snape." Draco moved to his dormitory and pulled out the scroll from his bag. He scanned it over one last time and walked back to the common room. Blaise's eyes followed Draco as he exited, bemused.

Draco was about to make his way to the Potions office before stopping himself. Severus was the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher now. He had been attending his classes ever since September; yet somehow, he never gotten used to the idea of his godfather teaching that course. It only seemed fit for him to teach Potions.

He stood in front of Severus' office, rubbing the coarse surface of the parchment he was holding. There was still some time until the their detention session began. Then Draco noticed a shadow on the other side of the corridor. The shadow wavered a bit under the candle light.

_So, Potter's finally arrived_. The blonde puckered his brows, not really knowing why he even cared to think the obvious.

Unruly, dark hair came into sight, confirming Draco's thoughts. Emerald caught stormy grey. The Slytherin noticed a flicker of surprise behind those thick, dumb lenses—and anger. _Must be because of last night._ He was feeling a bit guilty. How odd.

Neither of them spoke to the other for the next little while. The silence grew more awkward, but it was finally broken when the potions master walked in. He stepped up to Draco and held out his right hand.

"Your essay?" Draco handed him the scroll obediently. Snape turned his attention to the Gryffindor, lips curled into a nasty smile. "I see you're not late this time, Potter. Try to keep that in mind the next time you come to detention." The Gryffindor glared at him, lips pressed into a thin line. His godfather turned back to him. "Now then. Shall we begin?"

He followed after him with Potter steps behind. They arrived at the main hall of second floor.

"You will be cleaning this hallway." Draco found the punishment very odd. In fact, it was not a punishment at all. The hall would be sparkling clean in less than one minute using the correct charms. The blonde narrowed his eyes slightly. This could not possibly be the case.

"You will also find that the floor and walls are spelled so any cleaning charm is to be dispelled." Snape gestured his hand to the opposite wall, where two mops leaned side by side. "So, you will be using those instead. They're charmed to clean off dust and magical residues as long as there's water. Any questions?" He looked from one to the other and then nodded to himself. "Very well. I hope to see the hall spotless when you finish."

Draco watched as Snape turned around in a swirl of black robe and disappeared down the corridor. He had no idea that cleaning was one of the many areas covered in detention. This wasn't any kind of cleaning either—he had to use his _hands_. In the meanwhile, Potter walked over the wall and picked up the bloody mop, muttered "_Aguamenti_", and set to work. The blonde swallowed his complaints. Severus would never approve of him if he asked for an easier way out of this. Besides, if Potter could do this, so could he. Draco picked up the tool, spelled it, and began wiping. He was not ignorant enough to not know how to mop the floor. He had seen the house elves at the Manor do it. It was a simple labour, he decided, simple and easy.

He could not possibly be more wrong.

Fifteen minutes after he had started cleaning, the blonde felt a prickling sensation at the soles of his feet; his arms were burning from the mechanical back-and-forth movements. Sweat was also beginning to build on his forehead. Another fifteen minutes had passed, and the Slytherin felt much worse. His feet were hurting now, and his legs were not feeling much better either. His shoulders and arms were sore, and the burning ceased to go away. Tiny beads of sweat ran down the sides of his cheeks, and his face was hot against the air. _Damn. I'm only half-way through, _Draco thought as he looked down the hall. He almost had to grind his teeth to restrain himself from swearing out loud. Next time he tried to cast a spell on someone, he was definitely going to watch his back. The blonde took a quick glance at the other boy, stunned. Other than the fact that Potter was mildly sweating, Draco could not find a single trace of tiredness or unease. He had also accomplished a lot more than the Slytherin had, which added a pinch of jealousy to the pool of emotion he felt at the moment.

Draco shook his head. _No, you're not going to let Potter get under your skin._ His eyes landed on the portrait-filled wall, and suddenly noticed a familiar figure, a man, chatting with a female in the frame to the right. It was the picture that had triggered last night's blackout.

The memories flooded his mind. Blood. Piles of corpses. His mother and father, dead. The Dark Lord. The blonde shuddered, trying to push the images to the back of his head, but he could not. He heard the sound of wood against the floor and saw that he no longer had the mop in his hand. It had completely escaped his notice as to how his fingers released the thing, but there it was, flat on the floor. The Golden Boy turned to look at Draco questioningly. Without a word, the blonde picked up the stick and went back to work. His mind raced.

He had no idea what those images meant. It was definitely not a dream, and it was far too unpleasant for a daydream—a combination of his past memories and his fears. Hallucination? Perhaps. They do tend to show a person's deepest fears. It had a far closer resemblance with what he was going through. Yet still, the blonde could not bring to mind any possible spells that would cause him to hallucinate, other than maybe the Cruciatus Curse, and Draco had not experienced that curse for some time now. Severus had healed whatever damage that damn curse Potter used on him caused, so there should be no side effects. _Could it be a potion? A poison?_ The chances of that were very slim. Over the holidays, he had done a bit of research in the field of poisons, their effects and symptoms, and he could say that he was now quite familiar with this area. Plus, he was always extra careful with food and beverages, especially during these dark times. However, Draco decided not to rule out anything before he was clear on this matter.

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Harry kept his eyes on the floor and told himself to look nowhere else. He had seen how shocked Malfoy looked when Snape told him that they had to clean the hall without magic. The Gryffindor sniffed and sneered. He had expected the blonde to go after the potions master and beg him. That would have been satisfying. He was surprised that the Slytherin willingly picked up the mop and began working without complaint. That was an unpredicted result.

He heard the mop fall onto the ground and looked curiously at the blonde. Malfoy's long, delicate fingers were slightly parted from one another. He stood, unmoving. His face was flushed, covered in sweat, with a few locks of hair sticking to his forehead. Even from a distance, Harry could see the grey eyes staring at the portraits on the walls distantly. There was confusion and fear. Then the blonde blinked, and all those emotions were gone without a trace as if he just came out from a dream. He caught Harry staring at him but said nothing. Lowering himself, the boy picked up the mop and began wiping again.

Harry gaped at him for a few seconds longer, unable to screw his head around to focus on doing some work. Malfoy was looking beyond tired and miserable. Unlike Malfoy, cleaning was like second nature to Harry. He had been doing that at the Dursleys ever since he could remember. The blonde, on the other hand, had probably never done labour of any type before, nor anything that required much physical strength, yet he continued to work. The dark-haired boy simply refused to believe what the Slytherin was doing. Did Snape really have so much power over him? It was unthinkable. The long-suppressed fury was shaping again. Why was he so angry? Oh, of course he should be angry. He had bloody risked getting detention to help the git and ended up getting detention because of it. Malfoy had been so respectful to Snape even though he had given him a punishment; he wasn't able to move Malfoy with the utmost sincerity, yet the man had succeeded with simple, cold words. Logic seemed so useless when it involved Malfoy.

Running the mop over the corner for the last time, Harry finally finished his side of the hall. It only took a few more minutes for the blonde to finish as well. As usual, they were to put away the equipment used during detention, so the two walked to the storage room. Still, silence.

When the two turned a corner, Harry fell steps behind Malfoy. He noticed that the boy's robe quivered. Then, as if he had just received the worst spasm, the blonde began to shake madly; his breathe became ragged and uneven. He reached his hand out abruptly, forcing his weight onto the wall and held on as if his life depended on it.

Harry wanted to get over there and make the pain go away—he wanted to help Malfoy—but his desire to hurt was much more overwhelming. The monster within him roared.

_He petrified you_—_humiliated you! He hurt you and your friends! Every time you try to help, he just tells you to shove off!_

There was no longer concern or sympathy; there was only rage… and pain.

"What's the matter, Malfoy? Caught a cold?" Harry hardly recognized his own voice, cold and thick with mockery, like he was speaking through the mouth of another person. That was the least of his worries, though.

At the sound of Harry's voice, the blonde swung around, startled. "It's none of your bloody business, Potter." Despite Malfoy's shaking body, his voice was even.

"You're in no condition to tell me what to do," Harry snorted.

"I bet you're enjoying every second of seeing me like this." The blonde managed to control the shaking and his own breathing, just barely. A voice in the back of Harry's head told him to stop and think, but he ignored it. Why should he? Malfoy is going to _pay_ for what he did..

"Oh of course. The view up here is great. You will enjoy it very much if you were me."

"I think you need a change of glasses, Potter. In case you haven't noticed," Malfoy clung even tighter to the wall, doing his best to stand, "Malfoys don't lower themselves to anyone, and I'm not planning to give exceptions to the fucking Boy-Who-Lived."

_No,_ his rationality kept speaking, _stop this madness before things get worse. _

"Is that right? I didn't think you would have live without kissing Voldemort's feet. That's what your father did. And look where it got him. I suppose you're on his side, too. Like father, like son." The stormy grey looked as tranquil as it had ever been. A faint smile found its way to Malfoy's lips.

"Better having one that's alive than dead."

Green orbs glowered suddenly, consumed completely by anger. Harry stepped forward, dropped the mop he was holding, and swung his fist at Malfoy faster than the blonde could react. His punch landed in the pit of the other boy's stomach, causing the blonde to fall back to the wall. Instead of collapsing, Malfoy propped himself up. "So this is how you're going to play?" He threw the mop aside and lunged himself forward. The two of them rolled on the floor, hitting each other as soon as there was chance. Finally, Malfoy managed to pin Harry down on the floor. He raised his arm above his head, ready to strike.

"_Stupify!_" The blonde was knocked off Harry, gasping as his back hit the wall for the second time. Ron came running down the corridor. "Harry, are you all right?" He helped Harry up.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

Ron's attention fell on Malfoy shortly, and Harry turned to face him as well. The dark-haired boy froze. Malfoy was covered with blood. The liquid had dyed the platinum-blonde hair crimson, and it continued to drip down his cheek and chin. Ron put away his wand and walked towards him.

"Weasley." The blonde, still coughing, managed to sneer. Even in this state, the blonde chose dignity over his better judgment. "Saving the day, aren't we?"

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Ron picked him up by the collar and landed a few punches at him. "That's for hurting Harry!" He tossed the Slytherin aside. Harry stood in the middle of the hall, watching as more blood dripped onto the floor where the blonde landed in a corner. After what seemed like a long moment, he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around to find Ron standing next to him. "C'mon, Harry. Let's go." Without giving him time to respond, the redhead pushed him out of the corridor.

"If I didn't come here to tell you the password changed, I don't know what might have happened tonight," Ron said, frustrated. "I should have known. Snape is such a sick, twisted bastard! The only reason he would have placed you in detention with that ferret of his was probably to kill you!" He squeezed the brunet's shoulder. "Harry, mate, it's not your fault. It's all Malfoy. He started it from the very beginning. Now cheer up." The raven-haired boy gave his friend a nod and was lost once again in a pool of thoughts.

_He deserved it. He deserved it. He deserved it. He deserved it. _Harry repeated to himself. He should stop thinking of the consequences and cheer up, like Ron said. He should even enjoy the victory—the satisfaction of sweet revenge—the sensation when his fist crushed that twisted face. So why was he not happy? _He deserved it. He deserved it. He deserved it._

Ron was telling him that it was Malfoy's fault that he ended up in detention and that he should have never tried to help him in the first place. Harry was not listening, but he smiled anyway. _He deserved it. Yes, he deserved it. _The angered died down, yet he felt as if his insides were tied into knots; beyond that was an emptiness he could not explain. A feeling of breathlessness surfaced, bringing with it an odd sensation, almost like guilt. _No, I will not feel guilty about this! Malfoy deserved it! _The voice in the back of his head spoke again, softly, but it sounded so much clearer than the phrase he had been repeating.

_You hurt him, Harry. He deserved better._


	5. Cupid's Pendant

**Author's Note:** I must apologize before hand for the late update. This chapter turned out to be longer than I thought. And thanks for all the great reviews guys! I really, really appreciate them. Now enjoy the story!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters, as they belong to J. K. Rowing. No money is being made from this.

**Summary: **AU HBP, HPDM slash. Harry decided to visit Draco in the hospital after the Sectumsempra incident, and finds an unexpected side of the young Slytherin. Realization hits the two of them as they became friends and something more. But time is running out.

* * *

**Chapter Five — Cupid's Pendant  
**

Harry stared at his own reflection in the mirror: a tired, pale young man. Almost dead, really. He barely slept last night, after waking from yet another nightmare that concerned his Godfather. The horrific images burned into his mind as he remembered memories of Sirius falling slowly, slipping away into the veil until there was nothing left. The vividness made him shiver, like it had happened just yesterday. His mind refused to let sleep claim it after the dream, so he decided to let it wander by staring into thin air. It was only when he heard Seamus get out of bed that he became aware of the time.

So here he was now, trying to brush his teeth, but instead peering at himself as if for the first time in his life. After who knows how long, Harry heard the other boys get up one after another, and snapped his mind back into focus.

"Harry, you look like hell." Dean commented as the dark-haired boy walked out of the bathroom.

"Thanks."

"Didn't sleep well?"

"Yeah," Harry smiled tiredly, "nightmares." He headed for the dormitory, changed into his uniform, and went down the stairs.

There were also other things on his mind.

The sick, metallic scent of blood. Patches of crimson stains on strands of white-blonde locks. Grey eyes that shone with tiredness, yet firmness at the same time. Broken porcelain.

The boy closed his eyes and shook his head to get rid of the memory.

_It's not my fault. He deserved it this time._

As he descended the stairs, he noticed how quiet the Common Room was. The first thing that entered his eyes was Hermione, sitting on the couch and reading a thick book.

"Morning Hermione."

"Morning Harry." The bushy-haired girl lowered the book and glanced up. Then, eying the boy a few seconds longer, she dug her nose in her book again. Evidently, she still did not get over last night's events. Harry sighed, and moved to the windows.

He could see the Black Lake outside, its water reflecting golden rays from the sun. it was not yet seven o'clock, but Harry was more than awake. Getting up early became more or less of a habit after being haunted by nightmares for the past few years. Whenever he woke up, sweating from visions of Voldemort, he would put on some clothes and sit by the fireplace in the Common Room until dawn braced him. It was a comfort when no one else understood the stress and fear he had to put up with. His friends were merely able to provide him with mental support. It was simply not enough to sooth his anxiety.

Beyond the forest, Harry noticed something approaching. He brought his hand up to shield his eyes from the light, squinting at whatever that was coming. It was an owl, holding a package that was almost the same size as itself. Instead of heading to the owlery, it continued to fly toward the tower. In less than a minute, the small bird came to the window and pecked its beak at the glass. The barn owl caught the attention of several other students in the Common Room, whom all began to gather beside Harry. Pulling the wooden frames apart, the raven haired boy let the owl hop inside. The bird dropped the brown paper-wrapped bag by Harry's feet, and left without asking for treats. He watched as the barn owl flew off, then turned his attention to the package. On top of it was a letter, addressed to himself. Harry unfolded the parchment, wondering what it could be.

_Dear Harry, _

_George and I know that you've been through a lot of stress since last June, so we thought of something that would cheer you up. We would like to proudly present our latest product -- Cupid's pendant._

_Cupid's pendant is a very delicate instrument. It detects the "wanting" portion of your emotion and indicates whoever your purest desires, whether consciously or otherwise. Quite a nifty thing right?_

_Take note that the person you desire may not necessarily be your crush or your lover. It could simply be someone you're interested in or someone who you want to talk with or be friends with. (We gave it the name "Cupid's Pendant" just because it's catchy.) Like we said earlier, it could also be subconscious. Anyways, that's enough information. Let's get to the good stuff._

_Before you activate the pendant, you must keep in mind that it can only be used once. When you decide to use it, the pendant will take the form of a weapon to indicate which of the four houses at Hogwarts you belong to. (We also have customers from Durmstrang and Beaubaton, so we used different objects to distinguish certain schools.) Broadsword represents Gryffindor, dagger represents Hufflepuff, bow represents Ravenclaw, and rapier represents Slytherin. The name of the person you desire will appear on the pendant, and it can take up to half an hour for the name to appear. Only you and the person indicated would be able to see the name. You have to admit that it's a great way to keep your secrets!_

_Here comes the important part. If you want to know what his or her reaction would be, then simply hand the pendant to the person. You don't have to be presented when you give it to them. As long as they come in contact with the pendant, it'll work. _

_Even though every pendant looks the same, different people gives off a certain feel, and depending on how the person reacts to the aura, the name on the pendant would either thicken to indicate acceptance or fade to indicate rejection._

_We've included three dozens of Cupid's Pendants in the package for you and our lovely housemates. (Yes, they'll have to fight tooth and nail for these ones. So if they want more, they'll simply have to come to our shop to claim their own!) We'll be officially selling Cupid's Pendant next week. Thanks once again for the great opportunity you've given us. We hope you enjoyed our present!_

_Sincerely,_

_George and Fred Weasley_

Harry stared at the letter for several long minutes before finally looking to the package in his other hand, not knowing what to say. His eyes traveled to Hermione, and beckoned her to come over. Sighing, the brunette closed the book and came over. She also seemed puzzled about the whole event. Harry handed the letter to her, which she began scanning rapidly the moment it was in her hand, and waited for her response.

"Well," Hermione finally began after a moment, "That's pleasant."

"Harry," Seamus was beside the dark haired boy in a second, "You still haven't told us what the whole thing was about."

"George and Fred just sent us their latest products." At the sound of the twins' name, the group gathered even closer. The girls, who were located at the far back, tried to squeeze through the rest of the crowd, screaming as they did so. The sudden shift in atmosphere knocked Harry over completely, making him drop the brown bag in his hand. The package hit the floor, and suddenly burst open, releasing small silver marbles in all directions. The pushing stopped, as the small bead-like balls bounced and rolled all over the floor.

A marble found its way beside a fifth-year girl, one of Ginny's friends Harry recalled, who picked it up curiously. As the girl's fingers made contact with the metallic surface, its form immediately changed into that of a sword hanging loosely on a necklace. She was startled at first, but delight shone in her eyes once she saw that the tiny ball had not been a silly prank of some sort, and quickly took the miniature sword from the ground. When the girl turned the pendant over, her eyes widened considerably, whispering a silent "oh my god". Ginny and her other friends came to her side immediately, and began giggling at once when they saw what was on the other side of the tiny sword.

"Is this some sort of love detecting device?" Ginny asked, turning to face Harry.

"George and Fred said the pendant detects the desire in a person. I guess it could also be love." Harry almost thought he saw a glitter in Ginny's eyes as he explained. They stared at each other for longer than necessary, and Harry felt strangely light-headed with a feeling that resembled tiny butterflies dancing in his stomach. Their eye contact was broken when Ginny walked away from Harry to pick up the small silver marble. Harry was finally able to pull his gaze away from her, and turned his attention to Dean and Seamus, both having a wicked smile across their faces. He looked around the room, and saw Neville holding a pendant, slightly pale, but blushing. He also noticed Parvati giggling like crazy. Hermione was holding one as well, smiling tenderly as she looked at her pendant.

Harry did not notice the horror on Ginny Weasley's face when she saw the name on her pendant.

"What's all the rambling about?" A sleepy Ron emerged from behind the staircase, yawing as he greeted his housemates.

"Gifts from Fred and George," Seamus explained, "some sort of love detecting device."

"Does it really work?" Ron asked, nevertheless walking up to the small marbles and picking one up. A sword took its place instantly, making his eyes flash with excitement. He stared at the surface of the sword, and his face was flushed at once. "Yeah, I guess it does work." The rest of the Gryffindors laughed.

While everyone enjoyed their little gifts, Hermione and Harry busied themselves by collecting the rest of the scattered silver beads. They conjured a glass jar, and levitated the marbles inside, since any contact with the metal will activate the pendant.

"The twins are really geniuses," Hermione said, after checking the room for any marbles she might have missed.

"Yeah. They are." Harry smiled. Despite the victories of the Quidditch matches, there was an invisible force that kept the Gryffindors from being truly happy. Looking at his housemates now, the boy could sense the unease disappearing. There was no Death Eaters to bring fear and no Voldemort to threaten their lives. There was just them and their own happiness.

Harry suddenly remembered that he was the only one left in the room who had not yet used the pendant. Turning slightly toward the fireplace, the raven-haired boy unscrewed the glass jar and took one metal marble. The familiar shape of the sword appeared in his hand immediately with a long string hanging from a small hole at the very top. For a moment there, nothing seemed to happen. The silver surface remained smooth and undisturbed. Then, dark grey letters began forming, carving into the metal like knife on wood.

Harry blinked when the surface became unmoving once more. _Is this some sort of joke?_ He asked himself. This was from George and Fred. Of course it was a joke. It had to be! _But what about the rest of the people? Ron said it worked._ He had the urge of tossing the pendant away, but at the same time he wanted to laugh. _It had to be a joke._

"Harry? Are you okay?" Ginny asked in a concerned voice, breaking Harry away from his thoughts

"I'm fine," the dark-haired boy answered, and gave her a smile that he hoped did not seem too nervous. "Come on. Let's head down to the Great Hall. I'm starving." The boy pocketed the pendant and waited for his friends to climb out of the portrait hole.

The raven-haired boy trailed after his two best friends to the Gryffindor table, and sat at their usual spots. Harry took a slice of toast that lay in front of him, and began nibbling. His mind was, in fact, nowhere near the Great Hall. It raced, playing and replaying the moment he saw the name appear on the pendant. Wondering if it was his imagination, he took out the pendant again and saw the same letters. The boy placed the pendant back inside his pocket, trying to banish the thoughts from his mind. Instead, he forced himself to think of something more serious. He stole a quick glance at the Slytherin table. Like the last few days, Malfoy was not there. He looked toward the entrance this time, and saw only two Ravenclaw girls enter. Harry was completely unaware of the concerned look Hermione was giving him.

_Maybe he's not coming, _Harry thought, _it's not the first time he didn't show up for meals. _Despite the thoughts, the boy could not restrain himself from looking at the entrance. When his head shot up for the fourth time in ten minutes, Harry finally found what he was looking for. The fair-haired boy came into sight the instant Harry set his eyes on the door again. The Gryffindor was hit by an odd sense of déjà vu. Like the Sectumsempra incident, Malfoy showed no sign of weakness or tiredness. He was calm and collected as ever. There was no bruise or cuts on his pale skin either. As a substitute for Madame Pomfrey, Crabbe and Goyle followed behind him.

They sat at their usual spots. Crabbe and Goyle immediately dug in, trying to stuff as much as their mouths could possibly hold. Malfoy, on the other hand, gracefully took his seat and began drinking a cup of milk. Feeling a bit foolish, Harry forced himself to stare at the food in front of him.

Breakfast ended in the next twenty minutes. Harry grabbed his bag and walked after Ron and Hermione to go to Potions class. The classroom was half-filled when they came in. All the Slytherins and Ravenclaws had already settled and made themselves comfortable near the right side of the room. The rest of the students arrived in the next minute or so. The last one to enter the room was Slughorn.

"Today," the man began as he stepped into the front of the class, "we will be concocting the Everlasting Elixirs. Now before we begin, can anyone tell me what this potion does?" Hermione's hand shot up straight in the air. Harry also noticed that half of the Slytherins had their hand up as well, including Malfoy. However Slughorn, without even a single glance at the right side of the room, picked Hermione.

After explaining about the properties of the potion, the students set to work. Harry pulled out his newly-bought _Advanced Potion-Making_ and flipped to the page indicated. He was still getting used to the neat white paper and blank margins. Without the help of the Half-Blood Prince, Harry was struggling just like the rest of the class. He placed the ingredients one by one into the cauldron and waited for a colour change before stirring.

"Professor, I'm finished." Hermione whirled around to face the far corner of the room, her eyes widened to the point where they might fall out any second now. Harry looked around the room, and noticed a delicate hand in the air. The voice had been Malfoy's. The Potions teacher came up to the blonde boy and peered at the green liquid bubbling in his cauldron.

"Acceptable." Slughorn commented, and walked off to Zabini, who was sitting directly behind Malfoy, and nodded. "Yes, that's it. Don't slow down. Keep stirring" With a flick of his wand, Malfoy made the content inside the cauldron vanish. He sat down, hand cupping his cheeks, and flipped through his textbook for the rest of the class.

Harry managed to finish his potion in the next fifteen minutes. The substance was slightly more turquoise than green, due to a few extra stirs. Other than that, the potion looked fine. Hermione, who had finished ten minutes earlier, looked at him approvingly.

"See? You did just fine without that cursed book."

Harry replied with a grin. "Looks like my brewing skills just got better."

Slughorn dismissed the class after he checked everyone's potions (though he was slightly disappointed at Harry's when he came by). Harry packed his things and swung his bag over his shoulders. With a sigh, he stuffed his hands in his robe pockets, eager to leave the room. As he passed by a turn in the corridor, he was startled to see someone walking straight at him. Before he had time to react, the Gryffindor was greeted with a collision that knocked him backwards. Harry pulled his hands out from his pockets to regain his lost balance before he fell. He heard a heavy thud beside him, and looked over his shoulders to find Ernie Macmillan kneeling on the floor, gathering his scattered books.

"I'm so sorry, Harry." Ernie said. Harry thought he looked slightly flushed, "I tripped on something."

"It's all right." Harry walked over and helped him gather his things.

"Thanks." The boy replied, smiling in a shy and nervous manner, and hastily walked off.

"Harry, come on!" Hermione called after the raven-haired boy, "We're going to be late for Herbology." Ron rolled his eyes.

"For heaven's sakes 'Mione. We have _plenty_ of time!"

Harry could not help but smile at his best friends. After all they have been through, they deserved to be throwing insults at each other like married old couples. "Coming!"

A silver sword lay on the floor, completely forgotten by Harry as he took off after his friends.

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Draco closed his book when class was finally dismissed. He stood up lazily, and began packing his things away slowly. The blonde was furious enough to make himself dissolve in all that anger, but he masked it completely with the cold, uncaring look he so often gave. He thought that the old fool had some respect for talent, but he was wrong. Slughorn looked as indifferent as ever when he stared at the perfectly-brewed Everlasting Elixirs. It seemed that the fact that his father was a Death Eater had far more influence on the man's mind than anything else. Draco let out a silent sigh. With Slughorn holding such prejudice against him, there was no way in hell he could get the new Potions teacher to change his mind, not to mention liking him.

The blonde glanced at the Golden Trio from the corner of his eyes. He spotted Potter, which made the rage inside him burn even stronger. From the moment he walked into the Great Hall, he could feel the eyes of the bloody Gryffindor follow him. _If beating me up wasn't enough, he had to try and stare a hole through my head._ Draco had made sure that all his wounds were either healed or covered with glamour. Despite his tiredness, the Slytherin had forced himself out of bed and prepared himself as best as he could. After all, he could not afford to let anyone see how weary and uncollected he actually was.

Draco stepped out of the room and saw Macmillan, the Hufflepuff boy, walking past him with very large strides. His cheeks were slightly pink, and he looked quite nervous. The Slytherin turned his head the other way, barely catching a glimpse of Boy Wonder's trademark unruly black hair as he turned to leave the Dungeon.

_Now this is interesting._

The blonde stored this piece of memory in his head, and was about to turn to go to his dormitory for his free period when all of a sudden something caught his eyes. In the depth of the dim lit stone corridors, he saw a glimpse of shining light just by the corner. Draco turned his body to face the other way and began walking toward the object.

It was a sword, the Slytherin made out once he reached the turn, hanging on a small silver chain. He held up the piece of metal and saw dancing flames reflect on its surface. He played it with his hands, and turned it over. There were letters carved faintly on the edge of the sword. Draco squinted under the green light to make out what it said, and suddenly his eyes widened. The blonde reached for his wand and cast multiple charms and spells that detected jinxes, curses, and Dark Magic. It had none of them. Draco went on staring at it. He was not feeling the least bit relieved.

The name engraved on the metal was his own.

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"Harry, mate. What are you doing?" Ron stepped into the dormitory, holding a box of chocolate frogs in his hands, and looked at the mess by his feet. Books and quills were all over the floor. Tee-shirts and socks were tossed around blindly, stacking up piles and piles of small hills.

"I can't find it," Harry poked his head out of the trunk and answered, then his wild hair disappeared inside it again. He removed the last item of clothing from the wooden box, leaving it completely naked without a single thing inside.

"Can't find what?" the red-haired boy walked to his bed, brushed a few shirts from it, and sat down.

"The pendant."

There was a moment of silence.

"Who was it?" Ron began, an evil smile hanging from his lips.

Harry gathered his scattered clothes, and began stuffing them back into his trunk, all the while refused to meet his eyes with Ron's. "Nobody important."

"Anyone Harry Potter likes is bound to be important, sooner or later."

Harry dumped the last bunch of clothes into the trunk and glared at the other boy. "Let me make things clear, Ron. This person is not someone I like. You saw Fred and George's letter. It's not about_ love_."

"I don't see what the big deal is, if it's not about love."

"It doesn't matter, Ron."Harry just finished packing his bag for his next class. "I need to find it because it was a gift from the twins. Since the jar of Cupid's Pendant is completely snatched away from me, I can't get another one."

"Just ask them to send you another one. I'm sure my brothers will be more than happy to do that."

"It's a gift from them. Besides, if I ask them, I'm sure other people will try to, too. It'll cause too much trouble."

"If you say so," Ron rolled his eyes, "Are you coming to dinner?"

"No. Not yet."

"Well. Suit yourself then." The other boy stood up from his bed and left the room.

Harry sighed in relief. He let the muscles on his shoulders relax, before realizing that he had been tense in the first place. He really did not want to cause the twins more trouble, especially with their business. But that was only part of the truth. How could he tell his best friend that the name on the pendant was Malfoy's? Everyone knew how much Ron hated Malfoy.

Then there was Harry's main concern. In some ways he was glad the pendant was gone, but he could not suppress the strange urge to look for it. Even though the twins had mentioned in their letter that nobody would be able to find out whose name was carved on the pendant, the terrible feeling that something bad would happen did not depart. As for why Draco Malfoy's name was on that pendant was beyond the Gryffindor. He had to admit that he was intrigued by the blonde's action throughout the school year. Yet it was bizarre, somehow, for it to be the only reason to make him number one on Harry Potter's Desire List.

The Gryffindor went through his bag to search for some work to do, but realized that there were none. The only homework he had was a Herbology essay due the next day, which Hermione _insisted_ him and Ron finish the night before. His mind roamed back to the source of his problem again: the pendant.

Harry recalled the day's event. He had the pendant in the Common Room, and he checked it once at the Great Hall. He remembered running it over his fingers once before Potions class started, but he had too much to do in Herbology to care about the pendant. It was just before lunch that he noticed the tiny sword to be gone. Harry frowned, and thought harder. He did stood stationary during their brewing session and told himself over and over again to concentrate on the potion. As for Herbology, the boy did not take off his robes today due to large amounts of notes they had to take down for their next few lessons. There was no way he could lose the pendant.

_Wait._

Ernie Macmillan.

The sudden realization struck Harry like thunder. He quickly grabbed his wand from his bed and ran.

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"What!" Draco's exclaim brought the attention of the handful of students inside the Slytherin Common Room. The blonde glared at them, his eyes clearly telling them to "back off and mind your own business". His housemates knew better than to provoke their Prince.

"What!" Draco turned to Blaise again, and said in a much quieter tone, though the surprise did not fade from his voice. "You kissed_ Ernie Macmillan_? Are you out of your mind?" The other boy shrugged.

"He was the one coming up to me to confess, not the other way around," Blaise said indifferently as he sat, relaxed, on the couch. "I simply gave him what he wanted."

Draco rolled his eyes. "And I thought you cared about things like reputation. He's a Hufflepuff, _and _a Muggle-lover."

"I do care about my reputation. It's true that he's a Hufflepuff and a Muggle-lover, but…"

Draco gaped at his friend, horrified by the sudden comprehension. "You're in love with him."

The dark-skinned boy chuckled. "Somewhere along the lines of that." The grin disappeared from his face, replaced by a sudden seriousness. "I know you're going to be disgusted by the idea of me falling in love with a Hufflepuff and the fact that he's a guy, and you have every right to be--"

"Blaise, I'm not going to judge you just because you fell for a guy, nor am I going to judge him because he's a Hufflepuff," Draco took a deep breath, "I'm not who I used to be."

Blaise smiled at the blonde. "Yeah. You've changed, I noticed." The smile turned into a devious grin, "If I didn't fall in love with Ernie, I think I would have fallen for you."

"Don't be ridiculous," Draco replied coolly, "You and I both know how long the line-up is."

"Right, Mr. Gorgeous." Blaise jumped out of his seat, "Care to join us at dinner today?"

Draco smiled, "I'll be down in a minute." The blonde dragged his bag with him and disappeared into the Boy's Dormitory.

Once inside his room, Draco poured out the contents from inside his bag. The silver sword dropped to the floor, along with his textbooks and quills. He hesitated for just a brief moment, before walking over and picking it up.

The pendant was cold on his skin. Draco ran his finger along the blade, feeling indentations where he knew his name had been carved. He had no idea why he took it with him. The mental battle started once again.

_There was the possibility that it was cursed_, Draco thought. Although most curses could be detected, a handful of them can be hidden. After all, he knew enough to cursed one himself.

_And someone would put their prey's name on it for the purpose of a curse? I don't think so_, the same voice that had irritated Draco so often replied.

_If you're so smart, then tell me why it has my name one it_

_Maybe it's meant to be for you?_

Draco snorted. _What are the odds that _I_ would be the one to pick it up. For your information, there were a good number of students passing that way too. Anyone could have picked it up._

_You're thinking too much, Draco. Maybe it's just a coincidence._

_Maybe._ The voice did not reply after that.

The blonde quickly tidied up his books, inks, and quills, then opened the top drawer on the table beside his bed and pushed the pendant inside. He was not ready to throw it away yet.

Draco came back to the Common Room five minutes later. He noticed that Blaise had also asked Theo and Pansy to join them as well. Pansy had stopped pursuing the matter about Draco's mission, thank Merlin. Lately, he noticed that she seemed different somehow, but he could not place his finger on what was different about her.

The four of them left the Common Room for the Great Hall. Supper had already begun by now, but Draco was determined to have a decent meal. He barely spent any time in the last week eating in the Great Hall due to either his secret mission or his hallucinations.

Half way down the Dungeon, where the Potions room stood ahead, Draco heard muffled curses. The boy frowned, and tried to ignore the voice. His stomach was starting to protest already.

"I think somebody's in there," Draco held the urge to punch Nott in the face as the boy blurted out his thoughts. "And I don't think it's a Slytherin."

Draco frowned, just a little. No one from the other houses should be hanging around their territory during and after dinner. No one dared. The blonde stepped close enough to the classroom to be able to glance through the windows. He saw nothing at first in the dark room, but soon spotted a moving figure on the far left. As his eyes adjust to the dimness, Draco was able to make out the outline of untamed strands of hair and a pair of glasses.

_Certainly. No one but Harry Potter would try and invade Slytherin sanctuary. _

A mixture of emotions emerged from within, longing to be thrown out like hot magma. He smirked at his friends, who nodded knowingly at the blonde and waited for him to take action. Draco swung the door open, startling the figure in the shadows. Before he could react, Blaise, Theo, and Pansy held out their wands and nonverbally cast spells on the candles in the room to light up the place. Without the protection of the darkness, Potter looked more cautious and confused than before.

"Well, well, well," Draco took a few more steps forward, and tried to put on the best sneer possible. He simply could not let his enemy see through the façade that concealed his hurt. "If it isn't Boy Wonder, wandering the corridors of the Dungeon." He would have his pride and dignity paid back today.

"For your information, Malfoy, classrooms can be accessed by any student in Hogwarts," the Gryffindor stood his ground without faltering.

"You know perfectly well that you're standing on Slytherin grounds," Draco smirked. To show the bloody git his point, the rest of the gang spread themselves around the room, literally cornering Potter. The boy stared back at him, trying to look unconcerned. Yet somehow, Draco _knew_ that Potter was nervous and slightly uneasy. His fingers were playing restlessly with his robes, but the movements seemed so insignificant from afar.

Then there was the way he stared at Draco. The blonde could spot a mixture of anger and annoyance in the sea of green, as usual, but that was not all. He also saw anxiety and confusion. There was no reason for any of the two to be there, yet there they were, as clear as water. Something was missing from the picture, though. Draco focused, and tried as hard as possible to interpret those emerald eyes, but he could not spot hatred anywhere. In fact, there was something alien that seemed to have taken the spot of that shadow, but Draco could not grasp the emotion. _This can't be right,_ the blonde wrinkled his nose, just slightly. Over the last six years, that particular emotion had always been there somewhere, no matter how minor the pranks and insults had been. Something inside of Draco seemed to stop, hindering his desire to take revenge. _No, I can't just stop now. He deserved this! I didn't fucking do anything last time and look at what he did to me? I was seriously injured! There could've been some serious, if not fatal damage. If I didn't know any healing spells I swear I could've--_

"You have one minute to get your arse out of here." The words that left Draco's mouth tasted foreign. _Before I convince myself that this is a bad idea._

Potter went on staring at him. This time, confusion was clearly labeled on his face. He managed to pull himself out of whatever thought that lingered his mind, and lowered his eyes. Without a word, he brushed past Draco and left the classroom.

"What was that about?" Pansy asked, after making sure the Gryffindor was nowhere near them. Draco had the urge to roll his eyes. The last thing he needed was Pansy's voice.

"No, it's nothing," The blonde insisted, "Let's go. I'm hungry, and I'm positive that if we don't get out of here, dinner will be over very soon." He motioned toward the door, with Theo and Blaise following behind him. Pansy made no move to follow them.

"You came back yesterday with bruises all over yourself," Draco turned around and opened his mouth to object, "don't even try to deny it, Draco. And this was right after detention. With Potter. What aren't you telling me?"

Draco closed his eyes, trying to calm himself and gather his thoughts at the same time. When he had an answer ready, he spun around to face her. "Pansy, like I said, it's nothing to worry about. I'm not a five-year-old. I can take care of myself," he sighed, "I don't want every single one of our conversation to turn into an argument, so please just…don't ask me about this anymore." Pansy looked at him questioningly, but nodded anyways. "Now come on."

As they navigated through the endless twists and turns of the maze-like Dungeon, Draco became quiet, nodding once in a while to show his presence. His mind processed the information he learned today, trying to fit the pieces together.

_Why was Potter here in the first place? Did he leave his homework there? No, that can't be it. There hadn't been any homework in the past three days. He was standing right beside his table though. _

Draco stopped in his steps. The abrupt action rendered the conversation to cease completely. _Unusual actions. Table. Alone. Search. _He swallowed. _No, he can't possibly be looking for the damn sword._


	6. Surprises, Surprises

**Author's Note:** I have to apologize for the late update. I'm _so_ sorry. Yes, I had a lot of projects and exams, and yes, I got lazy. So please forgive me (kneels down and begs).

Once again, thanks to all the readers and reviewers out there! I can't emphasize enough on how important you are when it comes to motivation. Thank you! This chapter hadn't been as long as I had planned, but it all worked out. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters, as they belong to J. K. Rowling. No money is being made from this.

**Summary: **AU HBP, HPDM slash. Harry decided to visit Draco in the hospital after the Sectumsempra incident, and finds an unexpected side of the young Slytherin. Realization hits the two of them as they became friends and something more. But time is running out.

**EDIT: **All mistakes in this chapter belong to me. Just to let you know, I don't have a beta for this story either. So I'll apologize beforehand for any errors in the story.

* * *

**Chapter Six — Surprises, Surprises  
**

"Draco, are you even listening to me?" Pansy turned around, a frown between her brows. "Draco?"

The blonde dismissed his thoughts from his head. "Yes, Pansy. You were talking about your Christmas present," he said, curving the corners of his lips. "I heard you. But really, you've been complaining about it for _months_. It gets quite annoying sometimes, the way you keep emphasizing certain events. People might think you're running out of topics."

"And I thought someone wasn't paying attention. Guess I was wrong again," Blaise shrugged, "Another lost bet. One Galleon tomorrow, Nott."

"Gambling is such a distasteful game," Pansy said disapprovingly.

"Let them," Draco swept past her and continued on, "If you'll excuse me, I'd like to get to the Great Hall before supper is over." The four Slytherins swerved around the corner and passed through the heavy wooden gates. Once inside the Great Hall, aromas of roasted beef and soup filled the air. Draco felt the urge to dash to the Slytherin table and start digging in, but his dignity and grace held him back. He had no intention of turning into Crabbe or Goyle as of yet. As Draco passed the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables, he recognized the dark-clothed figure looming by the edge of his table.

"Professor Snape?"

"Draco, I'd like to have a word with you," Severus scanned the others, "The rest of you, head to your seats." Theo, Pansy and Blaise nodded, and turned quickly to leave.

Draco stood where he was and waited. "Yes, sir?"

"Let's talk somewhere private. Come with me to my office." Severus gestured the blonde to follow him. Draco sighed, but not quite loud enough for the man to hear him. _Here it goes again._

While the two moved across the Great Hall, Pansy turned around just in time to catch the last of their robes before they disappeared. Her eyes were reserved and distant. Without a word, she followed the rest of the group and sat down.

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Harry sat on the couch in the Common Room, watching the dancing flames in the fireplace with false fascination. He had searched both the Potions classroom and the Herbology classroom, but had yet to stumble across the pendant. _Someone must have picked it up. Let's just hope it doesn't fall into the wrong hands._

The boy blinked. Even if someone did pick it up, he or she would have no idea what it was anyways. Well, at least not until after George and Fred began selling it. But what was the point of worrying? No one would know whom it was from, and whom it was for. Besides, what were the chances of it landing in the hands of Malfoy?

Just then, the Portrait swung open, and Hermione stepped inside.

"Harry?" the boy on the couch responded by turning around, "Why weren't you at dinner?"

"I had to find something, and I wasn't that hungry anyways." Harry felt Hermione's gaze linger on him in an almost accusing way. He felt guilty for only telling her half the truth, but then again Hermione would ask a lot of questions if she knew the whole truth. Thankfully, her eyes left his shortly.

Harry returned to the book sitting on his lap that had been long forgotten. He began to read the pages, yet all he registered was the first word of the paragraph. Instead of focusing on how to get across the single word, his mind drifted back to the pendant. _Where could it be?_

"Harry?" The boy started and tiled his head up to face Hermione. "You seem distracted lately."

"I have a lot of things on my mind, that's all," Harry shut his book. "Dumbledore's lessons and school work, and everything else in between." Hermione looked at him sympathetically. "But it's nothing I can't handle. I've been through worse situations before. Does the word 'Umbridge' ring a bell?"

"That's exactly what I had in mind."

"Yep, those were real hard times," Harry grinned.

"What are you doing, flirting with my girlfriend?" Both Harry and Hermione swung their head around in one-tenth of a second, and found Ron who welcomed them with an evil smirk on his face. "Gotcha!"

"Ron!" Hermione blushed furiously, "you really scared the heck out of me back there. Haven't I told you already that I can't stand you being angry, or jealous, or both at the same time!"

"Well, I'm not. Just fooling around," Ron smiled sheepishly.

Hermione sighed out loud, too dramatic to be angry, and looked back at Harry. "Are you busy tonight?"

"Whoa. Is this what I think it is?" Ron suddenly looked serious.

"No, Ron." Hermione rolled her eyes. Her attention settled on Harry once more, "So, are you?"

"No."

"Good. Can I ask for a favour?"

"Sure."

"Hold on." Hermione rushed to the Girl's Dormitory. Within a few minutes, she came back with a small brown box.

"What's this?" Harry asked.

"Clothes," she lifted the lid, " for Dobby."

"Why would Dobby need a pair of knitted mittens in the middle of Spring?" Ron skimmed through the contents in the box quickly.

"I planned to give this to him after Christmas, but I had two Runes essay due that week, and after that was the Potions assignment, so I simply forgot about it for a while, until yesterday. Could you bring this to Dobby? That is if you're not busy."

"Not at all a problem," Harry smiled, and took the box to leave. "I'll be back in a while."

"While you're there, don't forget to make up for your missed meal."

"Yes, Hermione, I will."

"And don't forget to get some snacks for us!" Ron added before Harry climbed through the portrait hole.

"Alright." The portrait swung closed with a thud.

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"What is it, Severus?" Draco stepped into the dimly lit office.

"You seem quite…unsettled lately." Severus shut the door behind them and cast several Locking Charms as well as Anti-Eavesdropping Spells. With another wave of his wand, the candles in the room flared. The man walked behind his desk and pretended to look out the window. The blonde knew he was pretending because his God Father never does anything that was not meaningful nor useful, not even if it was to kill time. All the while, Draco eyed his actions patiently. There was surely more to come. The boy felt the muscles in his body stiffening, and had to force himself to stay relaxed. _There's nothing to worry about. You've practiced this over in your head ten million times already. Just listen for cues._ "What happened last night?"

Draco blinked, completely thrown off-guard. He was not expecting this question; he was sure his God Father wanted to know more about his task. Then he realized that Severus might turn around any moment, and wiped the dumbfound expression from his face at once. "Nothing."

As he had predicted, his God Father indeed turned around with raised eyebrows. "Nothing?"

"No, sir."

Severus smiled. "First of all, I would like to comment you on your performance of Glamour. It was definitely beyond the ability of a sixth-year." Draco stared hard at his God Father. Despite the friendly smile, his eyes were cold. "But I think I told you that the walls in Hogwarts are magic-resistant, unless it is damaged by jinxes or curses. And Glamour is neither of those." The man left the window and walked toward the blonde. "Something curious I noticed about the Glamour is that it actually lasted for half an hour. It must have taken you a great deal of practice to do that."

In a flash, the man swept his smile from his face, and held his wand in his hand. With a swift motion of his wrist, something transparent left Draco's face. Then, the smooth pale skin began to crumble at places, slowly revealing half-healed bruises and cuts. "Don't underestimate me, Draco." Severus lifted his wand and tucked it inside his cloak. "Put the Glamour back on. I'm sure you wouldn't want to walk out this door looking like that." Draco obeyed. He took out his own wand and whispered "_Occultus_". Little pieces of skin-like substance emerged from the tip of the wand, and stuck themselves onto the blonde's flesh. Within a matter of seconds, Draco had finished adjusting the tone of the Glamour so it resembled his own skin.

"Very skilled indeed," the man muttered, speaking more to himself than to the boy.

"Is there anything else, sir?"

"Yes actually," Severus made a gesture to his bruises. "Who did this to you?"

Draco opened his mouth, but felt a sharp, stabbing pain run through his body that almost made him whimper. Another restriction of the Unbreakable Vow. "I can't tell you."

"Was it Potter?" The thing that had wreathed around his heart tightened. The blonde did not answer. He just wished his God Father would stop asking questions. The man, however, took the silence as a yes. "So it was him." Draco gulped. "I'm curious though. Why did you not fight back? I know better than anyone that you can beat him in any duel."

No answer.

"Were you physically restricted, or mentally?" A change of tactics, but there was still no answer. Severus did not look the slightest irritated, though; he actually looked amused. "Were you threatened by him?"As those words left his mouth, the man's eyes became sharp and alarmed, as if somebody just switched on the light. "Did Potter figure it out?" Draco's lips remained sealed; the pressure on his heart was nowhere near gone. His God Father pursed his lips and frowned. "Answer me Draco. Does _any_ of this concern your task?"

The suffocating feeling in Draco's chest vanished at once, and he was able to breathe again. He could still feel the pressure on his heart, but it was much more bearable than before. _So it was heading toward this direction no matter what_. Draco opened his mouth, choosing words that would not trigger the Vow again. "The bruises has nothing to do with my task. You're overreacting, sir." Draco answered with a lightness that easily concealed his intentions.

"Am I?" The man suddenly quirked an eyebrow, but looked away just as quickly. So Draco had succeeded; Potter was no longer their subject. _I think I'll be able to handle the rest._ "I'm only concerned about your well-being."

"Of course you are. But I think we've had this conversation before. I simply can't tell you about it. This mission is meant for me, and myself only. If I don't do what the Dark Lord asked of me, my family will suffer a torture far worse than death."

"There's nothing you need to hide from me. I can _help_ you," Severus spoke quietly, but there was an edge of impatience ringing in his voice.

"I am hiding nothing from you, and I can assure you that I _don't _need help." Draco replied with equal ease.

"Your pride will lead you to your downfall, Draco, just like your father" Severus narrowed his eyes, squeezing the words through his teeth.

The comment made Draco's eyes flash and the rage inside him burn. "None of it was Father's fault!"

"It is," Severus spoke the words barely without moving his lips. "Lucius Malfoy was a smart man. He would've never came close to stepping into Azkaban if he didn't underestimate the Order."

"Don't!" Draco squeezed his eyes shut, "don't talk about Father like that."

"The Headmaster had went undefeated for as long as I could remember. What makes you think that you can kill him?"

"Ah," A surge of betrayal darted through his head, but Draco curved his lips to conceal the shock, "so Mother has told you about the task, I reckon? Why would you need to ask me about it if you knew all along?"

"Because Draco, you'll need all the help you can get to complete it."

"Well, I say no." The man opened his mouth to retort, but Draco quickly continued. "You know as well as I that when the Dark Lord asked his servant to do something for him, the servant must act alone." The blonde's voice sounded oddly calming in his own ears, but he knew better than anyone that there is still hot fury, boiling in the pits of his stomach.

"But you're barely seventeen, Draco!" The man's voiced strained in a nearly pleading way. Draco had never heard his God Father speak like this to anyone before. Something inside him cracked and faltered. The emotions that poured out urged him to tell Severus about everything. But the rest of him stood unmoved. He would be risking his own life along with his family's if he did.

"Age is not something the Dark Lord considers. Loyalty is." Draco opened his eyes and spoke, "You should know better, Severus."

"Well you should also know that what the Dark Lord has asked of you is an impossible task!" Severus shook his head. "Don't you get it? All of this was meant to punish Lucius! He _knew_ you wouldn't be able to complete it!"

"I know," Draco closed his eyes, "If I don't do this, Father will be punished anyways. But if I make an attempt, then at least Father will have a chance to be spared and be released from Azkaban when the war is over." _And we'll be able to live together after._

"You're too naïve, Draco." Severus turned his back on the blonde.

"Then let me be." The blonde dashed out the door and shut it with a heavy bang.

Once he stepped into the hallways, Draco slowed his strides to a moderate stroll. Severus had called him to his office countless times from the beginning of September up until now, and each conversation somehow ended up revolving around the subject of his task. His God Father was not a man who gave up easily, but only now did Draco realize how much of an obstacle this characteristic proved to be. He bet the man has already pried more information from him than the blonde would imagine possible, through every one of his actions and reactions. In fact, Severus was probably doing a lot of guesswork himself to figure out the current situations.

As he veered to the right, Draco noticed a crowd of Hufflepuffs walking towards the direction of the Library. _Great_, the blonde frowned, _meal's over_. He turned left at the next intersection, a short cut that lead to his Common Room. Instead of heading there, Draco kept walking until he reached a painting of fruits. _I have a feeling that I'll be spending much of my time in the future in the kitchen._

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"Harry Potter!" the squeak, followed by dishes dropping, rendered Harry to a stop. After all these years, the boy was still not able to get used to the way house-elves talked.

"Hello, Dobby," Harry looked around. Other house-elves stared at him with curious eyes, but once the commotion was over most of them picked up their plates and cups and began scrubbing once more. "Are you busy right now? Or am I disrupting your work --"

"Oh no!" the house-elf shook his head frantically, "of course not! Not when Harry Potter comes to visit Dobby! Never!" Dobby quickly Summoned a stool. "Please, sit down."

Harry settled on the stool, smiled at the tiny house-elf, and held out the box for him. "This is for you." The boy lifted the lid from the box, revealing a pile of clothes.

Dobby's blue, watery eyes widened to a point where Harry thought it might pop out any second. "I cannot accept such a heavy gift from the great Harry Potter!"

"Actually, this is from Hermione. I'm just delivering it for her because she's busy at the moment. She insists that you take it." Harry held out the box out to Dobby, who stood there, torn between the decision. At last, the house-elf reached for it with trembling fingers, and held it firmly against his chest.

"Dobby will be forever grateful. Oh yes, Dobby will! Dobby will be thankful for life, and Dobby will--" Harry's stomach began to churn and growl, "Sir, have you eaten?"

"No. I think I'll just take some leftovers--"

"Oh no," Dobby, very carefully, placed the box on a table beside the stool. "No, no, no, no, no! Oh, no! There's no need to look for leftovers! Dobby is at your service. Dobby will cook anything! What would you like to eat, sir?"

"Anything is fine."

"Anything?"

"Yes, anything." The great blue eyes stared hard at Harry, "Really."

"Right away!" The house-elf nodded his head frantically, then turned and ran into a small door.

In the meanwhile, Harry took his time to look around the kitchen. House-elves worked on the only four tables in the room, which resembled ones in the Great Hall. He realized that he was sitting right under the Hufflepuff table, and decided to move to his House table, where it was more familiar and less intruding. Instead of taking a seat, Harry circled the table and watched the house-elves. Washing dishes made him remember the years he had spent with the Dursleys. Then he reminded himself that he could not compare his former life with the house-elves' living in the castle; they were far happier than he had been. There was no point in thinking about the past now. He should be content with what he has now: great friends to support him, and a life that he could call proud.

In the midst of his thoughts, a creak from the kitchen entrance warned him of another's presence. Only a handful of students knew about the way to the kitchen. In fact, most students never seemed to question its existence. Such coincidence alarmed him, yet sparked his interest at the same time. Light steps sounded from across the room, heading past the Ravenclaw and the Hufflepuff table. _A Slytherin,_ Harry thought.

Strands of platinum-blonde caught his eyes as Harry turned his head. His heart almost stopped. He could _not_ possibly come here at this time of the night.

Then again, the Slytherin rarely went to the Great Hall for meals for the past several days. The fact only led to more questions, and Harry could not answer any of them at the moment, not counting the wild guesses that swirled in his head.

Malfoy looked at the plates of leftovers with a slight frown on his face. Nonetheless, he approached them. Without much care, he reached for a plate of what looked like Cornish pasties.

"Harry Potter! Sir, your meal is ready!" The pale hand stopped in midair. The blonde whirled around and caught his eyes. There was a mixture of emotions. Surprise, confusion, annoyance, and something he could not fully grasp. In a moment, the emotions were walled once again, replaced by a mask of indifference. Malfoy's hand however, moved across the pasties for a plate of Jelly Slugs.

"Potter," the boy curved his lips into a sneer, "why, what a coincidence. I didn't know you had a personal house-elf to cook for you whenever you liked." Hearing the usual drawl left a feeling of forbidding in Harry. Anger was beginning to build up.

Malfoy looked lazily over to Dobby. "And what do you know? If it isn't our traitor of an house-elf. Having a good time serving Harry Potter I reckon." The house-elf recoiled, hands trembling slightly. At that moment, the resemblance between father and son was so clear that Harry had to will himself not to punch Malfoy in the face.

The blonde looked around, then his gaze fell onto Dobby's box. "What's this?" he strolled over and lifted the lid, revealing knitted garments. He reached inside and took out a pair of mittens, then looked from Dobby to Harry. "How sweet, Harry." His own name sounded so bitter in his ears that it almost seemed as if Malfoy had cast some sort of jinx on it. "No wonder the no-good traitor is willing to serve you."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry clenched his fist.

"Oh, I'm _so_ scared!" the blonde chucked mockingly, which only made Harry squeeze his fist tighter. When the laughter finally died, Malfoy's emotions were tucked in safely under his perfect mask once again. "Make me."

Something inside Harry snapped at the sound of those words. He walked towards Malfoy, picking up his pace as he took each step. Harry grabbed the blonde's collar and smashed him against the far wall. The plate slipped out of his hands and shattered, leaving the Jelly Slugs scattered on the floor. The Slytherin winced has his spine hit hard stones, but his eyes never left the Gryffindor. Harry looked into those grey marbles. Cold and hard, and unfaltering.

"Oh look Dobby, Harry Potter is going to kill me because I made a comment on your properties." The knot in Harry's stomach tightened.

"Just shut up." The Gryffindor bared his teeth and held his fists in the air.

"Can't make me shut up with words, so you're shutting me up by force?" The resistance that shone in his eyes made Harry all the more furious. "This the exact kind of thing that Harry Potter would do."

"_I said shut up!_" Harry smacked his fist against the wall, but Malfoy was not startled. Instead, the blonde watched the raven-haired boy with great vigilance.

"Don't you dare talk to Dobby like that. He worked like a slave for that devil of a father of yours, so leave him alone!" Harry turned his face away from his nemesis.

After a long pause, Malfoy spoke. "Isn't it great to have a friend like you." Harry snapped his head around, an insult already formed on the tip of his tongue. But when he looked into the stormy grey, he saw plainness, with no malice nor smugness. The flames of fury disappeared as fast as it came. Then Harry noticed something about the boy's face. Malfoy's chin was more pointed than ever. The skin sunk in around his eyes and where his cheeks were. His hair, though tamed, was not as well-groomed as he had imagined it would be. If it hadn't been the sneers, the Gryffindor would have mistaken him for someone else. Harry released his clench on the boy's collar.

"I'm sorry."

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Draco lowered his eyes and strode away from the wall, stopping just before his shoulder touched Potter's. "Why are you sorry? You have nothing to be sorry about."

Potter opened his mouth, but thought better and closed it again. He marched to one of the long tables and took the plate of freshly cooked steak and kidney pie in his hands, then walked back to face the blonde.

"What's this? Are you going to devour that in front of me so you could rub it in my face?"

"No," Potter spoke. His every word seemed to be full of regret, "I want you to have it."

An unknown fury blazed in Draco. "You want me to have it?" The Gryffindor nodded. The blonde felt himself sneer. How _dare_ Potter offer him sympathy. "Thank you." Draco stepped forward to accept the plate of food. Once in his hands, the Slytherin held it high, then let the plate slip from his fingers. "Oops. I forgot to tell you that I don't accept sympathies from others, especially you, Potter."

"You…!" Potter looked at him with those intense emerald eyes. Draco was sure those orbs could see through his soul_._ Potter closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, the flare was gone. "Why is that every time we see each other, we have to break into a fight of some sort?"

The question stunned Draco. "Yes…why is that?" the blonde whispered to himself, smiling. He wanted to tell Potter that they were enemies, that they could not stand being in the same room as the other for more than three seconds, that they could not help but insult each other whenever they passed each other in the hallways, that Potter, stupid Potter, decided from the first moment they met in Hogwarts that they should never be friends. "I don't know." It hurt to remember how utterly desperate he once was, trying to be Potter's friend. _How stupid you were, Draco,_ the voice in the back of his head spoke, _he chose who he is. Face it, he'll never be what you want him to be. You don't need him._ Draco seemed to collect himself at that moment. He simply could not afford to let his barriers down in front of Potter anymore; that would only make him more vulnerable than he already was. "Maybe," the blonde spoke," because you're Harry Potter. Maybe because we're not meant to be friends, but meant to hate each other."

The two were drowned in their own world, completely ignoring the clattering of dishes and whispers amongst the house-elves. The silence was broken when Draco began walking away.

"Wait," Potter clasped his hand on the blonde's wrist. "Stay. I'll go." The Gryffindor released his fingers and let Draco's arm fall to his side. "Dobby," the Gryffindor called, and the tiny house-elf came running to his side, "could you please prepare some food for him." Then he turned toward the Slytherin, "If he hurts you, he will pay dearly." After letting his message sink in, Potter turned his attention toward the house-elf again. "Now be good, Dobby. I'll be back soon." With that, the Gryffindor stepped through the painting and disappeared down the hall.

"S..sir, what would you like?" Dobby tottered toward the blonde, holding his tiny hands in front of his chest as if to prevent his heart from falling out. Draco looked at him, but made the tiny creature jump nonetheless.

"Steak and kidney pie, please."

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Harry took his time to stroll back to his Common Room, playing and replaying his encounter with Malfoy in the kitchen.

_Isn't it great to have a friend like you_. There was something about those words that made Harry's heart tighten. Was it melancholy? Pain? Regret? Maybe it was a mix of all three. But Harry could not tell. As a matter of fact, Harry could not even tell who Malfoy is anymore. The Gryffindor could see the old ungrateful, malice prick in him, but he recognized something more. Sometimes it was as if the blonde had become a completely different person. A persona perhaps, or maybe an alien, even. Harry was beginning to doubt the other boy. Was he good or bad? Was he evil or not? Was he right or wrong? Did things have to be this way?

_I don't' know._ Draco's words kept repeating themselves in his head. _I don't' know, I don't' know, I don't' know!_ Harry stopped and closed his eyes. From the first day they met, their hate for one another had grown like a snowball rolling downhill. When had they become so depended on this hate that they could not bear to live a day without it? They know the other's habits, even their favourite subject of insult, and these characteristics were overlapped and reflected through their actions. In many aspects, they intertwined and weaved themselves into the other's life, much closer to anything or anyone in their lives.

But why hate? Of all emotions, it had to be hate. Pity it had not been something else. Now that Harry stopped to think about it, he was so stupid. For six years, he had been driven by hate. But for what? Revenge?_ No. _Rivalry? _No._ The closest Harry could come up with was satisfaction. Yes, satisfaction, like the content he felt when delivering his insults. Each time those stormy grey orbs glares at him, the boy could feel something within himself that pushed to continue. A large part of him, the more rational part, thought his behaviours bizarre. Harry wanted to stop, his maddening mind and his actions altogether. But it was too late to stop now. Stopping would be like taking a piece of his life away.

Could things be different? Harry did not expect to become friends with Malfoy. He was the person who rejected that friendship in the first place. Besides, even if that moment was repeated, Harry would have done the same thing. But even so, could there have been a different outcome? Could this hatred be put to an end?

"Harry."

The boy started, pausing between this step and the next.

"Harry," the voice echoed.

Harry looked up and caught a glimpse of familiar red hair moving somewhere above the stairs. "Ginny?"

The girl leaned forward on the handle of the stairs and smiled. She held her position for a moment longer before rushing down the steps to meet Harry. "Ron told me you're down in the kitchen. I thought you forgot about the time so I came down to fetch you."

"Thanks," Harry smiled. Oddly, the monster in his chest seemed to have disappeared for once. Funny enough, his heart beat did not speed up and the funny feeling in his stomach was not there either. "Come on, let's get back to the Common Room."

"Wait." Harry felt a tug on his sleeve as he turned to climb the staircase. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure." The boy, though slightly confused, agreed anyways.

"Let's go somewhere more private then, shall we?"

They reached an unused classroom on the second floor. Upon entering, Ginny walked to the windows and lit the candles on the shelves. The light bounced off the glass and gave the room a warm, almost welcoming feeling. Ginny continued to face Harry with her back. The boy waited patiently. Whatever Ginny wanted to tell him must have been urgent or important, or else she would have never gone all the way here to talk.

After a long silence, the girl sucked in a breath and turned around. "Harry, I…" Ginny gulped, searching Harry's eyes before she went on. "I should have told you this before, but I didn't. So I'm going to tell you now." Harry could see her gathering courage. He did not interrupt her speech, but nodded to tell her that he was listening. "I…Harry, I…" Ginny closed her eyes and let out a quick sigh, "Okay, this isn't going to work." Suddenly, she flicked her eyelids open and marched up to Harry with a fierceness that was familiar yet odd. Before he had any idea on what was to come, Ginny's lips were already aligned with his own. There was surprise, content, and even delight to a certain degree. But all this seemed kind of hollow, kind of distant, as if he were in someone else's body, thinking and feeling as a complete stranger. Ginny pulled herself away and looked down. "I know this seems kind of abrupt, and you probably think that I'm doing this to find comfort, but I'm not. I love you Harry, I've always did, believe me. Ever since we first met, I've wanted to tell you that I'm in love with you, but I couldn't. I hope you trust me when I say this, but I was scared that you'd reject me. I mean, you are Harry Potter right? I'm just a nobody." She looked up, and Harry could see the doubt and fear, and a tiny ray of hope reflecting in her eyes. "But would you accept me, and love me back?"

Harry, though still shocked, seemed to consider this. _Isn't this what you wanted?_ He asked himself. He was conscious about the fact that every time Ginny entered the Common Room or the Great Hall, his gaze would be taken off from whatever task they had and follow her. He had been jealous, furious even, when he saw her and Dean make out. And the fluttery feeling when Ginny looks over to him to say hi. Those feelings were definitely there. Yet he could not help but feel like he was betraying her, betraying Ron, and betraying himself. He was not certain about these feelings anymore. Could he really love Ginny?

Then Harry felt something ripping through the layers of conscious in his mind and noticed the familiar thing that confined his heart.

_Isn't this what you wanted?_ The monster in his chest repeated.

Harry searched her brown eyes, and opened his mouth.

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"Where _is_ Harry? He's been gone an awful long time," Hermione asked, being anxious as always.

"No worries. I send Ginny down to get him. They should be back soon." Ron patted her shoulders. The portrait swung open, and Harry slowly stepped inside. Ron turned around and smiled, "Harry, we were just talking about you. Where's Ginny?"

"Um, Ron," Harry regarded his friend with a measure of weightiness that let him know the importance and seriousness of what was to come. "I hope you don't mean it when you said you were going to kill Dean, and I definitely don't want to get a hole in my face."

"Harry, mate, What are you talking about? I'd never do that even if you forgot to bring those snacks I asked--" Ron's eyes moved on to Ginny, who was standing behind Harry. His jaws dropped as he noticed that their fingers were laced together. "Merlin's beard, you guys aren't…"

"Ron." This time Ginny spoke, "yes, we're dating." And with that, the red-haired girl leaned forward and kissed Harry. The whole Common Room fell silent, but began cheering once the initial shock passed. Hermione did not though. Apparently, she was the only person who noticed the worries written across Harry's face.

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**AN**:_ Occultus_ comes from the Latin word "occulto", meaning to conceal or to cover.


	7. Delicacy

**Author's Note:** Thanks for all the reviews, guys! As always, I loved hearing your opinions on Beneath the Rose. I would've liked to update this earlier, but unfortunately I had a lot of work. I'll stop my ranting now. Enjoy the chapter!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters, as they belong to J. K. Rowling. No money is being made from this.

**Summary: **AU HBP, HPDM slash. Harry decided to visit Draco in the hospital after the Sectumsempra incident, and finds an unexpected side of the young Slytherin. Realization hits the two of them as they became friends and something more. But time is running out.

* * *

**Chapter Seven — Delicacy  
**

Harry opened his eyes to find the same old four-post bed. He looked around, and as always, Seamus had managed to wake up before him. But surprising enough, Dean and Neville were gone also, which made Ron the only person still sleeping. Harry felt the weight in his heart loosening a bit. If anyone was going to oppose his relationship with Ginny, it would be him. At least Harry would be spared for the moment.

The boy got up, checked the time, brushed his teeth, changed into his school robes, and was ready to make an appearance in the common room. As suspected, the instant Harry walked down those stairs, all conversations ceased and all eyes were turned to him. Sometimes he wondered if the Boy-Who-Lived's private life was really that interesting. He certainly found his life unremarkablely ordinary, other than the fact that he had survived several times when Voldemort tried to kill him. Dean was the first to look away.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione called, which brought the boy's attention away from the rest of the Gryffindors, "I didn't think you'd figure it out."

"Figure what out?"

Sharpness flickered across Hermione's features, but was hidden again. "You mean you didn't know that Ginny had a crush on you for half a decade?"

"No." The boy was taken aback by surprise. "I had no idea. Did she really?"

"Of course Harry! Why would I lie to you about this kind of thing?" Hermione folded her arms. "Everyone probably, except for Ron and you, knows about it. I'm curious. How did you and Ginny get together?"

"Well, I just began to feel attracted to her, and before I know it, I was looking over to her all the time. After that, my emotions just got out of hand." Harry chuckled at the memory. "But in the end, she was the one who asked me out."

"I'm not surprised. I didn't think you'd ask her out anytime soon, anyways." Hermione nodded her head, but her narrowed eyes told Harry that she had something else in mind.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of his best mate coming down the stairs. Ron turned his head to Harry the moment he stepped away from the stairs. The common room was swept by yet another wave of silence; this was the unavoidable confrontation that everyone waited—almost hoped—for. The two boys stood wordlessly, anticipating the moment that the other would open his mouth. Although the redhead had accepted his and Ginny's relationship grudgingly the night before, Harry still had no idea what to expect from his friend. Maybe Ron had decided to turn down his acceptance after all.

"Harry,"—Ron's voice brought Harry back from his thoughts—"Even though I don't want to give Ginny up to anyone, I trust that you'll take good care of her. Don't disappoint me, mate. If you hurt her, you'll be forever sorry that you dared to think such thoughts."

"I will take care of her, believe me." Harry grinned.

Ron walked over and patted Harry on the shoulder, and grinned back. "Well, I believe it's time for breakfast?"

"All right then," Harry replied, though he could not get over the feeling that his heart was dangling loose inside his chest.

_You've hurt her already, Harry. This is just the beginning_, the small voice in the back of his head called. Harry ignored it.

_No. This is what I want._

The gang of Gryffindors arrived at the Great Hall earlier than usual, though not early enough for the plates on the tables to be empty. Only fifty or so people were seated in the room. Harry walked along until he found his spot, near the middle of the Gryffindor table, and sat down, with Ron and Hermione beside him.

"Ron, could you pass me a glass of pumpkin juice, please?" Harry asked, fixing himself a bowl of cereal.

"Sure." The other boy reached for a cup and handed it over to Harry. "Here you go."

"Thanks." Harry lifted his eyes from his cereal to reach for the cup. Half-way through his motion, his eyes travelled to the figure behind the glass cup. This was one of the rare days when Malfoy showed up for meals. Strangely enough, the blonde sat alone in his seat without the accompaniment of his snobby bodyguards. He was reading a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ while finishing his toast, but somehow Harry had the feeling that he was not actually reading the papers. Without any warnings, Malfoy lifted his head, and his eyes locked onto Harry's, as if he knew all along that Harry was staring at him. The thought send a shiver down Harry's spine. Once again, there was no malice in those grey marbles. Harry could even read the apologies that skimmed across their surface, and he was sure that Malfoy could read his own. But the connection disappeared all too quickly, as the Slytherin looked away.

"Harry, mate, my arms are going to fall off," Harry snapped out of his daze and took the cup.

"Sorry about that," the brunet smiled apologetically, and took a sip from the glass.

As time passed, more and more people joined their House for breakfast. In half an hour, more than half of the students filled the tables. Harry had already finished his meal, and was chatting with Ron and Seamus about Quidditch. Dean was still reluctant to talk to him, but he would comment once in a while.

"Look. It's Ginny," one of the fifth-year called, and triggered the giggling of two other girls sitting beside her. Harry shifted his attention from their Quidditch conversation to the door. Ginny was walking down the table, her hair gliding in the air. Harry could feel the butterflies working in his stomach again, but the reaction was less intense in comparison from the ones he experienced weeks before. She stopped by her usual seat, across from the three giggling girls, but did not sit down. Ginny chatted with her friends for a while, then kept walking, leaving frowns after frowns on the girls' faces. Ginny smiled when she saw Harry looking her way. Her ginger steps stopped between his seat and Ron's. "Ron, could you please move over?"

"Why aren't you sitting with your own friends," Ron grumbled under his breath, but scooted over all the same. Ginny whispered a quiet "thank you" and settled down. Finally, her eyes locked on to his. She leaned forward to plant a quick kiss on Harry's cheeks.

"Good morning, Harry."

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Draco stared at the copy of _Daily Prophet_ in front of him in disinterest. Nothing new; three murders believed to be connected with the Death Eaters, Scrimgeour's public appearance, and the latest celebrity gossips. He was actually more focused on nibbling his toast than reading about them.

The blonde had felt someone's eyes linger on him for quite a while now, and there was only one person in Hogwarts who was bold enough to do that. Eventually, he stopped pretending to read and lifted his head from the papers. Without even a second guess, his eyes landed on Potter. The boy thought in frustration, though he did not let it show. It was getting annoying, the way Potter kept on staring at him like he was some sort of phenomenon. It would be nice, once or twice, just to let Boy Wonder gape at him. But lately, it was getting on his nerves.

Draco recalled memories from last night. _Potter had regretted, and he had apologized,_ the he reminded himself. The blonde let a soft sigh escape from his breath. Just this once, Draco would let the Gryffindor have what he wanted. He let down his barriers and let his emotions slip from underneath his heavy armors. He would never speak of his own regrets, but it would not hurt to show a little. When he felt that he had given enough, Draco shielded his emotions once more and reached for the _Daily Prophet_, hiding behind the papers to sort his thoughts. _It's over_, Draco told himself, _you don't owe him anything. Life will finally go back to the way it had been_.

"Draco," the blonde set the papers aside in relief and looked up to see Blaise and Pansy walking towards him, followed by Nott, Goyle, and Crabbe. "We were wondering where you disappeared to."

"Well, you've certainly found me." Draco folded the papers neatly into a rectangular bundle while the others took their seats. He reached for his cup of water, but found it empty. "Pansy, could you please—"

"Pass you a glass of water? Certainly, Your Majesty." Pansy took a glass from the table and conjured water inside. After filling it to the rim, she passed by Draco's plate. As he retreated the cup, Draco noticed Pansy's ring.

"That's a nice ring."

"Thank you," Pansy held up her hand, partially to examine it herself, but mostly to show it to her peers. "Just an old family heirloom. My Father gave it to me as a present, though I would much prefer one with the latest designs." The ring was made of silver and covered in sophisticated patterns and ornaments. Like most heirlooms that Pure-Blood Slytherin family owned, the ring took the shape of a snake. It wrapped itself around Pansy's ring finger with its head reaching just slightly over her first joint.

"Never mind about the ring, Draco," Blaise spoke, being his usual impatient self. But he could not hide the excitement and urgency ringing in his voice. "You can beg Pansy to show it to you later. It's not like the ring would fly away. Let's talk about what happened last night while your memories are still fresh." The boy leaned forward. "So what did Snape want from you?"

"Can we talk about this somewhere else? This is the Great Hall we're at," Draco said, frowned at Blaise's question.

"That's all right. They won't hear us." Pansy slid the wand into her robe pocket. "I just cast a privacy ward around us. The room isn't too full yet, so just sit down and pretend to eat your breakfast. No one should suspect." The gang obeyed.

"Back to the question, Draco," Blaise took some bacon into his plate, and spoke without looking up at Draco. "What did Snape want?"

"The usual," Draco answered, taking a sip from the glass. "The task."

"And your answer?" The blonde suppressed his urge to glare at Blaise.

"What else would I tell him, other than 'fuck off'." _Forgive me, _Draco apologized secretly for using such foul language while talking about his God Father, _but it must be done._

"Did you really tell him that?" Crabbe asked innocently.

Draco shut his eyes to stop himself from rolling it instead. Sometimes he wondered why he's still talking to that blob of fat. "No, of course I didn't. That was a hyperbole."

"What's a hyperbole?"

"Crabbe, just go eat your breakfast," Blaise sighed, and only felt safe to turn around when he saw Crabbe start to devour his third bowl of cereal. "Anything else?"

"Nope. That's it." The blonde picked a biscuit from the plate and took a bite. This was not the first time he had to lie to them, and it was likely not going to be the last. After all, two cannot keep a secret. Besides, he was sure that their friends must have kept many secrets from him themselves.

"Funny how he asks the same question over and over every time." Draco's eyes gleamed with eagerness, but thankfully his head was lowered slightly to ensure that his expressions were not seen. If anyone could analyze a situation, Theodore Nott would be the one. "He must be determined to find out your secrets, Draco, and it is likely that he will pursue this goal by force." The blonde listened intently. "Do remember that he is a Potions master. He may very well resort to using his most powerful weapons. Something strong—perhaps common—but not deadly," Nott glanced up, a gesture that would seem casual to anyone sitting around them, "A Truth Serum, perhaps."

"There's over a dozen Truth Potions. There is no way I could prepare against them all, plus some of them don't even have antidote."

"You'll just have to be careful when he's alone with you. I doubt he will try to use them on you during any other time. Watch your own back."

"Thanks. I will keep that in mind." A small smile touched his lips. "I guess this is what you call Slytherin team work."

Theo smiled back and stood up, signaling Pansy to end the spell. "I'll go get my books."

Draco remained lost in thoughts. If Severus had indeed thought about using such tactics, he would have done so much earlier. Was he planning to let the blonde speak the words himself, or does he not care enough about the details to act yet? He should probably take the precaution anyways, just in case anything unexpected happens. One cannot be too careful after all. "I should get going too," the blonde said to the others while taking another biscuit from the plate, "wouldn't miss anything in the world for Potions."

As he stood up to leave, Draco noticed Ginny Weasley from the corner of his eyes. She walked up to two girls, whom he recognized as her companies when he bumped into them in the hallways. She continued down the table, and Draco's eyes fallowed her, suddenly aroused by his curiosities. Looking a few steps down, he noticed Potter's gaze—not staring at him this time, but at the redhead. Draco frowned, _that's strange. I don't usually see her around the Golden Trio._ The girl looked over at Potter without prior warning and closed in the distance between them until their lips touched. There was a strange lurch inside his stomach that made him both anxious and bitter, something almost close to envy. Envy? Why would it be envy, or all emotions? Draco snorted; he had no reason to put She-Weasel on the list of people he might compare himself with, not to mention envying her.

"What is it, Draco?" Pansy asked, looking at him in an unexplainably weird way. This was only one out of half a million times she has looked at him like this, but it was probably the closest that Draco had come to wanting to seal her mouth and store her away in a closet. He flexed a muscle on his arm instead, which had, thankfully, been hidden behind his robes. Pansy, realizing that the blonde had been looking in the distance, turned her head. "Is that Weasley I see kissing Potter?" she noted with distaste. Draco barely resisted the temptation to stab her with a knife. "Well, this scandal will last for more than a while."

"Yes, I think so." With that, Draco displayed his perfected sneer at the Gryffindor couple, and marched out of the Great Hall, but somehow that sneer left a sense of brokenness that he could not quite understand.

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"I can't believe Ginny did that!" Ron had been blabbing on about the same thing over and over again as the gang of three walked down from the Gryffindor Tower to their first class. "Snogging you in front of the whole school. Don't you play innocent with me, mate. You could've stopped this embarrassment."

"For heaven's sake, Ron." Hermione rolled her eyes for the fourth time. "They were the ones snogging. If anyone should feel embarrassed, it would be them, not you."

The trio entered the classroom, followed by a wave of silence. Harry knew it well. It was the same silence displayed during his second year when he had been suspected of being the heir of Salazar Slytherin. Slowly, conversations returned as the Gryffindors seated. Minutes later, Nott and Malfoy ambled into the room. The students once again shut their mouths, watching—waiting. Sensing the sudden change in atmosphere, Harry looked up and caught sight of them. The blonde glanced lazily over to the front, where the Gryffindors sat, and curved his lips in a mocking way. Harry tried to search Malfoy's eyes, like he had early, to find any trace of reason, but the brunet could not find his answer. The stormy grey orbs only seemed darker and colder, and more distant all at once. This was not the same Malfoy he saw in the Great Hall.

"Well, well, well." The blonde dropped his books and bag onto his desk casually, raising his chin as he spoke. "Once again, Famous Harry Potter offhandedly became the centre of all attention. Sometimes I wonder how you manage to hit the bull's-eye every time." Malfoy pretended to be in deep thought. "Ah yes, how could I forget? Boy-Who-Lived, Chosen One, Boy Wonder…. All those titles must have weighed quite a bit to bend the arrow." The Slytherins sniggered as always as a sign of support. The grin on the blonde's face broadened, and he took several steps forward. "Everyone thought Cho Chang would be the last girl for you—" There was more sniggering, but Malfoy ignored the interruption. "—but after hearing the news today, I think you broke the hearts of a number of witches. And even wizards." The room roared with laughter; even the Ravenclaws could not suppress their giggles. The Golden Trio kept their solemn gaze on Malfoy, who raised his head up in triumph. "Oh, I almost forgot to ask. How is it with the She-Weasel? I bet you had loads of fun considering how open she seems to be—"

"Malfoy shut your mouth! You are in no position to talk to my sister like that!" Ron slammed his hands onto his desk, causing some of the ingredients to shift from their spots. The laughter came to an abrupt halt, and all gazes fell on him. Malfoy lowered his head, turning his attention to Ron in a slow, lazy motion.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the blonde drawled. "I didn't see you there. In fact, I don't think you have the capability to attend this class at all."

"That does it!" Ron fumbled through his robes for his wand. "You'll be sorry you ever let those words leave your filthy mouth! _Sectum—"_

"_No Ron!_" Harry grabbed hold of Ron's wanded hand and forced it down. All the while, Malfoy looked at them impassively like the night he had when Ron punched him.

"Harry, he just insulted my sister! I can't let him get away with it!" Ron hissed between grinding teeth.

"Ron, calm down. Violence won't solve anything!" Hermione said urgently. "Stop and _think_! You hurt Malfoy, and you'll have to face the consequences, which may include getting expelled. Do you really want that?" The brunette kept their eye contact as he spoke, as if she could restrain him with her gaze alone. After a moment, Ron sighed and lowered his wand.

"I'll deal with you later, Malfoy."

The blonde responded with a smug smile.

Slughorn entered just then. He greeted the students while writing instructions on the board. Class became yet another brewing session, which Harry began to take interest in the last two days. He still could not achieve the excellent potions he brewed when he had the Half-Blood Prince's book, but he was getting better at it. Brewing potions is definitely the more preferable option compared to taking notes. But today, Harry found that he had to constantly force himself to focus. His mind kept on drifting off. He was sure that Malfoy had accepted his apologies during breakfast when they locked eyes, but he also knew that the insult was mean for him, not Ron. Maybe Malfoy saw it a necessity that an insult should be hurled at him to show that things were back to the way they used to be, but it seemed too acid and bitter to be the real reason. He lingered on that thought for a moment longer, before moving to chopping his roots.

Class went by quickly enough. Harry's potion, as expected, earned him a shake of the head from Slughorn. Hermione looked at him with an expression that read "I am disappointed; I thought you could do better". He did manage to shove this mind back in place half-way through the class though, but it seemed that it was a bit too late; the damage done to his potion was already irreversible. As he packed his things, Harry noticed Malfoy moving towards the door. God knew why he was still paying attention to Malfoy when that bloody no-good ferret had just insulted Ginny. Ironically, there was barely any string of anger dangling on his mind; though looking at the blonde brought the whole event back. Harry blinked, and willed himself to think about his Herbology essay. There would not be much progress in thinking about it. He had no idea as to what triggered Malfoy's abrupt change in attitude and probably never will. All he knew was that he played no part in provoking Malfoy's ego.

But that _still_ did not explain the odd knots patterning in his stomach.

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"Harry, are you coming?"

"Just a second."

"Mate, we're going to leave without you!"

"I said I was coming," Harry called from above the stairs, and stepped down just in time to catch the frown on Ron's face.

"You take more time than a girl!"

"Hey!" Hermione jabbed Ron in the ribs, making him groan in pain.

"I didn't mean you 'Mione," Ron said as he rubbed his side.

"Then I guess you're implying that I'm not one."

"Lovebirds, lovebirds. Break it up now." Seamus took a step forward. Hermione sighed and turned away. Ron though, looked as innocent as ever, like he had just been falsely accused of stealing cookies. Sometimes Harry wonders how he pulls it off every single time.

"First things first. And at the moment, that would be dinner." Seamus turned around and pushed Hermione out of the portrait hole.

"Hey, Finnigan! Get your hands off of my girl!" Gryffindors marched out of the common room one by one while they chuckled quietly at Ron's remark

"Ron, learn to share!" Seamus replied, only to receive a glare from both Ron and Hermione. "All right, I'll back off now. It's all yours, Weasley." Seamus bowed, and moved back in the group to talk to Dean.

As the group reached the Ground Floor, Harry felt a sharp tap on his left shoulder that made him whirl around. "Ginny! You scared the hell out of me." The boy relaxed—he did not even notice that his muscles had been tense in the first place. "I didn't see you back in the common room. Where were you?"

"Preparing," Ginny answered simply.

"For?"

"It's a surprise. For you."

"Oi, Harry! Quit snogging with Ginny there. Are you coming or not?" Ron called before entering the Great Hall.

"No he's not. He's coming with me!" Ginny replied, smiling. "Now go inside and sit right beside Hermione." Ron flushed at her comment. "Don't worry. Take your time; I will be borrowing Harry for quite a while." She flashed a quick smile at Harry and pulled him down the stairs.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, despite the familiarity of the route. Ginny was leading him down to the kitchen. The boy, though, thought it wise not to mention anything. If he said anything now, it would ruin the surprise.

"You'll see," Ginny answer without turning back. There was a sense of urgency that rang in her tone, a slight quiver that flickered on her tongue when she spoke. It was not quite excitement nor eagerness, but something close to nervousness.

As Harry expected, they reached the painting with the bowl of fruits. Ginny extended her hand to tickle the pears in the centre and the door to the kitchen immediately swung open.

The room was different from yesterday. The lights had been dimmed, and there were no house-elves working by the tables. They stepped in slowly, partly because it was so dark, but Harry knew that Ginny wanted him to take the time and guess what was to come; she did not even bother to cast "Lumos".

But Harry noticed that someone else had.

The ray of light came from the corner of the kitchen and flickered every few seconds. Clearly, whoever cast it did not put much strength into the spell. The wand that held the white glow stationary was suddenly put to motion. Whoever had been there had noticed their entrance. The master of the voice whispered something too quite for Harry to hear, and suddenly the candles flared to life.

Standing in the middle of the room was Draco Malfoy himself.

"Ah," the blonde drawled. "Evening, Potter,"—he turned to look at Ginny—"Weasley. Am I intruding a very private moment?"

"What are you doing here?" Ginny ignored Malfoy's question and demanded while narrowing her eyes at the same time. Harry did not like that particular expression on her face. It made her look too obnoxious.

The blonde sighed dramatically. "If I could recall, there is no such rule that prevents students from accessing the kitchen at Hogwarts. Well, if I'd somehow mistaken, then you two shouldn't be here either." This time, Malfoy's eyes lifted from Ginny's and moved to Harry's. "Or do you think you have some special authority to overlook the rules, being the Boy-Who-Lived?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Ginny snapped.

"I can see why you two are dating," Malfoy spoke in his lazy tone.

"Just leave us alone!"

"It's my freedom to stay where I want to, unless you want to threaten, curse, or kill me. In that case, you'll have to face worse consequences than just a few insults." Ginny opened her mouth to retort but shut it when she could not find her words. Malfoy smiled haughtily.

Harry opened his mouth this time. "Malfoy—"

"But I never said I will stay," the blonde cut him off before anything other than his name emerged. "I don't like to invade other people's privacy, nor do I respect those who invade mine." His gaze lingered on Harry briefly, which was meant to remind him of the incident that happened in the boy's washroom. The memories did indeed came back to his mind, making Harry flush at the recollection, though the light in the room was still dim enough to conceal it. "I wouldn't want to occupy your time for too long. I understand that we're all very…busy people." Ginny clenched her fists at the implication. "Well, enjoyed the night." With that, the Slytherin glided across the room and brushed past them to leave the kitchen. The door swung close as he exited, but the echo of his footsteps could still be heard.

Ginny let out a deep breath, as if someone had lifted ten pounds off her shoulders. "Come on, Harry. Don't let Malfoy bother you. Here, I want to show you something." She strode quickly to the Gryffindor table and Harry followed behind. Clean dishes were piled up on one area the table, and dirty ones would appear in another, but there was one section that stood empty. Ginny motioned Harry to sit down, and clapped her hand twice. Almost instantly, there was a small pop and Dobby stood beside her (the house-elf barely managed to hold a squeak from escaping). Harry looked from the Dobby to Ginny, then back, astonished.

"You two are…friends with each other?"

"It's a long story," Ginny said, smiling. "Dobby, could you please bring out the food?"

"Certainly." The house-elf snapped his fingers, and the empty space on the wooden table was replaced by dishes of all colours.

"Whoa, Gin. What's this for? It's not my birthday today." Harry was even more astonished now.

"We are dating, aren't we?" Ginny smiled playfully. "After all, dining is a part of that. And since we couldn't leave Hogwarts to go to an actual restaurant in Hogsmead, the kitchen was our best option. I mean, the food here isn't bad, either."

"No. Not bad at all." Harry smiled in response. Ginny held her glass of butterbeer up in the air.

"To a wonderful relationship."

"A wonderful relationship." Harry raised his and moved the glass forward until the two rims produced a light click, then moved it back to take a sip. The butterbeer trailed down his throat and left sweetness mingled with a touch of bitterness from the alcohol.

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's dig in."

The two took their time to eat; they were too occupied with talking than actually taking in food. Their conversation ranged from everyday small things to more random and personal subjects. Ginny would make remarks here and there that made Harry laugh or make a face, and Harry would do the same. The few moments between conversations were reserved for chewing and, in Harry's case, letting the guilt inside of him claw at his conscious. The boy felt bad for disturbing Malfoy's meal—he was sure this time that it was a meal and not a snack—and driving him away. Images of last night's encounter flickered across his mind, which made him even more guilty and sympathetic towards the blonde. Harry had wanted to tell Malfoy that he and Ginny would leave, but the stubborn git had seemed too proud to even accept that. The boy sighed. _I shouldn't be feeling guilty. I didn't tell him to walk out; it was his choice to do that. _Despite his efforts to shove his guilt away, it kept coming back to him.

"Harry." The boy shook his head and looked up to find Ginny staring at him with knitted brows.

"Hmm? Sorry, I was thinking about something. You were saying?"

"You seem really distracted lately." The frown on her face deepened.

"So I was told," Harry answered casually, and popped a piece of chicken in his mouth.

"If multiple persons tell you the same thing, you should probably consider thinking about it rather than just let it pass."

"I think you should consider taking up the role of my mother instead of my girl friend," the boy teased.

"In that case, Harry James Potter, I'll gladly act like one." Ginny snaked her hands behind his head and closed in the distance between them, placing a light, soft kiss beside his lightning-like scar. Harry shut his eyes as the skin on his forehead tingled. It was a nice feeling—the warmth of Ginny's lips on his skin. Even if he had little memories of Lily Potter, he was sure that that was a mother's kiss.

Then Ginny trailed down Harry's nose bridge with small kisses, all the way until her lips reached the tip of Harry's nose, where the last kiss was planted. Harry opened his eyes when he felt the warmth leaving his skin. Ginny looked back at him, smiling, as if expecting just that moment. "I'll be stepping out of character in the next few minutes." She leaned in again, but this time their lips touched. Harry quivered slightly, and his eyelids fell shut almost instantly. The kiss was nothing like the one he shared with Cho in his fifth year; it was much softer and definitely more natural. Something was still absent from the picture, though. Something important. Harry indulged himself further into the kiss, trying to unearth the missing element. The word lingered in his mind, but it did not actually take shape. He had to finally give up when his lungs ran out of air to support his processing mind, and pulled away. Harry smiled at Ginny when he opened his eyes, and found the same little curve hanging on her lips. _Maybe it's because it's our first time. I'm sure whatever is missing will show itself eventually_.

_Maybe_, the voice in the back of his head said, cynical as ever.

_Shut up. Don't ruin the perfect moment._

"That was…nice," Ginny's grin broadened. Harry immediately knew what she wanted. He leaned in to give her another kiss. This time, he was prepared.

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_Of all people, Potter and Weasley had to show up_, Draco thought angrily as he whispered the password to the common room. _Not during any other time, but during _my_ precious meal time. _The only reason he deprived himself by going to the kitchen to eat was so that he could block the words "Harry Potter" and "Ginny Weasley" from entering his ears—he was sure that everyone would be talking about it in the Great Hall. _These two most unwanted people just had to budge their little heads into my personal space and drive me away._

_Keep telling yourself that. __They didn't drive you away. You chose to leave_, his conscious corrected him. Draco bit his lower lips, failing to come up with a retort for the last comment. No, he was not told to leave the kitchen. In fact, he knew perfectly well that he had intended to stay there and insult She-Weasel and her mate just so he could aggravate her. But Potter had chosen specifically _that_ moment to step in. His next words would not have mattered, whether he wanted Draco to stay or not. Draco would still be fighting a losing battle. The blonde could not care one bit about the fact that his exit looked more like an escape than anything. Pride mattered less in a situation like this. He just needed to get away from Potter and Weasley, anyway possible.

Barely anyone was in the common room at this time; most of them were still enjoying their meals. The blonde pushed such thoughts away to prevent any growls from escaping. He could not afford to embarrass himself, even if there were only four people in the room.

He made his way to his dormitory and, as expected, no one was there either. The boy marched to the drawer by his four-post bed and took out a small, round vial containing a deep-blue liquid—Dreamless Sleep Potion. Draco had tried many potions over the last few days to subside the effects of his hallucinations, and out of all of them, this seemed to be the most effective one. At least now he would not worry about waking in the middle of the night from a nightmare. He uncorked the glass and drained the content in a single gulp. The blonde then kicked off his shoes and climbed onto bed. He pulled the blanket over himself and remembered something that had been forgotten in his mind. With hesitation, Draco reached for a second drawer and took out the sword-shaped pendant. He laid his head on the pillow to examine the smooth lines that carved out his name and felt a sudden stab of pain in his chest. The letters looked thicker and bolder than he had remembered, but that could easily have been a trick of his eyes. He could feel the potion taking effect now, making his eyelids heavier and heavier, and the boy finally gave in and closed them altogether. He could feel the painful throbs getting hazier until he felt them no more.

The silver pendant rested firmly between his fingers as Draco slept.


	8. The Unexpected

**Author's Note:** Thanks for all the reviews, guys! This chapter had not been as long as I had hoped (but trust me, it's not much shorter wink) I will do everything in my power to make the next chapter longer (I hope). Well, that's all folks! Enjoy the chapter!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters, as they belong to J. K. Rowling. No money is being made from this.

**Summary: **AU HBP, HPDM slash. Harry decided to visit Draco in the hospital after the Sectumsempra incident, and finds an unexpected side of the young Slytherin. Realization hits the two of them as they became friends and something more. But time is running out.

**More Author's Note:** I almost forgot to tell you guys. I've also added titles for chapters (though I'm never good with them so if it doesn't fit...don't kill me xD)

* * *

**Chapter Eight — The Unexpected**

"Draco."

"Mmm…"

"Wake up, sleepy head."

"Blaise." The blonde glanced up at the boy standing by his bed, but made no attempt to move his head away from his pillow. "What is it? Can't this wait?"

"Can Pansy ever wait?" Blaise raised one eye brow playfully. "Is that even a question? Get up. Miss Parkinson demands to have a minute with you." Draco rolled his eyes and tucked himself inside the warm blanket again.

"Come on in, Pansy."

The door opened on cue. Draco could hear footsteps approaching his bed, but he gave no thoughts to moving. He liked where he was right now.

"Draco, I know you haven't eaten well lately."

"Mhmm…"

"I'm worried."

"Mmm…"

"And I want you to have breakfast with the rest of us today." There was a long lapse of silence.

"If you're finished, Pansy darling, would you please let me get some sleep? Oh and close the door when you leave. Please and thank you," Draco mumbled to his blanket.

The temperature dropped suddenly, and his blanket was no longer warm. Draco barely managed to roll his eyes; Pansy must have placed a Cooling Charm on it. The boy sighed and kicked it away, revealing his Slytherin-green silk pyjama.

"Did you have to wake me up so early on a Saturday?" Draco sighed.

"No, but you leave me no choice. Tell me, how many times have you actually sat down in the Great Hall to eat breakfast in the past four days, hmm?" Pansy folded her arms and eyed the blonde with wrinkled nose. She was clearly displeased. "I know you've been eating down in the kitchen. I'm not that ignorant." Pansy paused, but spoke again when Draco opened his mouth to retort. "I have reliable sources. I couldn't believe my very own ears when I first heard. Eating in the kitchen, Draco. Not just once or twice, but at least _three times a week_? You are coming with me to the Great Hall this morning, whether you like it or—" Pansy moved her head slightly to the right to look past Draco's shoulder. "Where did you get that?"

"Get what?" Draco frowned and sat up. The blonde whirled his head around and noticed a glitter on top of the drawer beside his bed and understood what she was talking about. _Damn_, he cursed inwardly, _I forgot to put it away last __night_. It has become a routine for him to stare at the silver pendant for a few minutes before he went to bed each night. It was bizarre, he knew, to simply look at the silver sword with barely any thoughts in his head. He still wondered about the possibility of it belonging to Potter at times, but these thoughts were quickly banished. After all, Potter simply did not have the taste to pick out something as fine-looking as this. On top of that, all students had access to the corridor; it would have easily been someone else.

Pansy stepped closer to his bed, but did not reach for the pendant. Even if they were the best of friends, touching another's possession without permission was considered a rude and unforgivable action among Purebloods. "Do you know what it is?"

"Yes." Pansy shifted her weight slightly and held a calculating gaze on the pendent. "As a matter of fact, I do."

"Would you care to tell me about it?" Draco cast a Warming Charm on the blanket and pulled it over his lap. She turned to him now, with an amused smile on her face.

"I will if you come with me to eat breakfast."

"Do I have to?" Pansy quirked her eyebrows, and he gave in. Within minutes, the blonde was dressed and ready to be presented.

The Great Hall was at its peak hour this time of the day. Almost all of Hogwarts' students were packed inside the room. Draco let out a quiet sigh as he took his seat, and waited for Pansy to sit down on the other side of the table. "So? Can you tell me now?"

"No," she spoke, matter-of-factly. "You have to eat something first. That's the whole reason we came down here right?" Draco gave her a tight smile. Under normal circumstances, he would have never let Pansy make decisions for him—and she knew that perfectly well. But the blonde was willing to give up that authority, just once, to satisfy his curiosity. He took a slice of toast and began eating, quickly yet still with a good amount of grace. When he was down to the last corner of the piece of toast, Pansy finally spoke again.

"That sword-shaped pendant is called Cupid's Pendant." Draco covered his mouth before he could spit out the bit of toast he just took in. "It's probably one of the most popular products at Weasley's Joke Shop right now. I think the name says it all." Draco swallowed the food and licked his lips. "From the looks of it, you didn't know anything about it."

"I believe my reaction told the story."

"Just curious, though. How did you get your hands on it so quickly? Their products only began to sell yesterday. Though I know quite a few people who have owled in their order."

"What makes you think that I didn't get it the same time as everyone else?" Draco raised his eyebrows this time, questioningly.

"Just a feeling." The odd smile played on Pansy's lips again. She was keeping something from him, Draco knew, but damn it if he could figure it out. "There has been rumour that a group of students have gotten their hands on Cupid's Pendant long before the day of its release." Her smile broadened into a grin. "I think you can find out more from Millicent. She is a bigger fan of Weasley's products than you think." Reluctantly, Draco turned his head towards Millicent Bullstrode. Though he had been on good terms with her, Millicent was not the best person to be asking a favour from. The blonde sighed. He would have to tone down his pride if he wanted some solid information. Instead of asking his questions right away, Draco waited until Millicent finished her breakfast and head back to the common room. Seconds after she stepped through the gates of the Great Hall, the blonde persuaded.

"Millicent," Draco called, long after they had entered the halls in the dungeon, but not too close to the Slytherin common room either.

The girl turned around. Her face told the blonde that she had been expecting him. "I was wondering when you're going call me. What do you want?"

"Always straight to the point." Millicent put on a stern face, but Draco had known her long enough to understand the triumph behind that look. "Could you tell me more about Cupid's Pendant?" Her face relaxed and melted into a somewhat sinister smile. Draco preferred her serious expression much better than this one.

"What do you know about it?"

"That's it's called Cupid's Pendant and has a ninety-nine percent chance of having something to do with love."

"You don't know much, do you?" The smile on her face only widened, turning from sinister to smug. Draco decided to let it pass for now.

"No, I don't."

"You didn't hit too far from home. Let's talk somewhere else." Millicent led them both to an empty classroom, and sat down on the table before speaking again. "Cupid's Pendant doesn't necessarily detect love. It reflects your strongest desire for someone. In most cases, it _is_ in the form of love. Thus, the name 'Cupid's Pendant'."

"You really are a fan."

"Spare me the asides. Anything else?" Millicent tilted her head slightly to remind the blonde that he was the one asking questions, not the other way around. Draco sucked in a breath to replace the urge to insult her instead.

"So how would you know who gave it to you?"

"You don't." Draco gaped at her, looking utterly disbelieved. "Relax. I didn't actually mean that. Cupid's Pendant is unique in the sense that it provides privacy. Let me show you." With that, Millicent took out a pendant that resembled Draco's, though the blade was longer and thinner.

"Can you see any writing?" Draco shook his head. "Now touch it." Draco obeyed, and held onto the pendant. "Do you feel anything?"

"That it's cold." Millicent did not even bother to conceal her annoyance.

"Only the person giving or receiving this pendant can see the name written on it. The pendant can also act as a conductor for the giver's aura, and only the person whose name is written on the pendant can feel it. That is, if the receiver can recognize the giver's magic signature. I don't know how the Weasley twins had done it. Probably a combination of several weak wards. Very ingenious."

_Didn't know the Weasley had room for such __ideas and talent_, Draco thought idly.

"But," Millicent continued, "you can figure out which house the person giving the pendant belongs to. The pendant I'm holding is in the shape of a rapier, the symbol for our house. Bows represent Ravenclaw, Daggers represent Hufflepuff and, last but of course least, broadswords represent Gryffindor. Does that answer your question?"

"Yes. Your explanation was exceptionally well. Thank you." Draco smiled.

"I'd like to find out who your secret admirer is." The blonde broadened his smile this time.

"So do I. But I wouldn't bet on that person being an admirer of mine just yet. I mean, it could be a disguise for…I don't know. Hatred, perhaps?"

"You have a wild imagination, Malfoy. Perhaps you're right, but I'm still betting it's one form of love or another. In the end, hatred is just like love, only expressed in a different way." Draco made no comment on her last statement. "Here, catch." The blonde reached his right hand out instinctively and caught the purple pouch Millicent threw at him easily. Years of playing Seeker had helped with that.

"What's this?" Draco asked as he looked from the pouch to Millicent, and back.

"A little present for our lovely prince," she answered, jumping down from the desk. "Wouldn't you like to find out your desire?"

"You make a better advertiser than the Weasley twins themselves."

"That's too heavy a compliment for me to bear. I reckon you'll take my advice?"

"Someday." Draco pocketed the small pouch as Millicent made her way to the exit. It was only when the door closed that his mind began to process.

_A Gryffindor, _Draco ruminated on this new piece of knowledge. _That's why Pansy had mentioned no word about this at all_. The blonde chewed on his lips. _Damn her. She knew there was a group of people—likely Gryffindors—who got their hands on the pendant much earlier than everyone else. But why did she suspect that I received the pendant before everyone else? She had no reason to….Unless there's something else she knew that I missed. _

The blonde checked the time and decided to return to the common room for now. Breakfast would be over soon. If he was fast enough, he could have the whole dorm for himself for the next ten minutes.

Few Slytherins passed him as he proceeded to the common room. There were not much people in the narrow hallways that led to his dorm, either. Draco rarely had the luxury to enjoy such quiet hallways these days, unlike his earlier years at Hogwarts when he was still naïve and and young enough to enjoy his late-night advantures. Fear and distress often accompanied him in his nocturnal journeys this year, not to mention having Crabbe and Goyle around. He was glad they were over. His task was nearly complete, and the only thing left was to wait for the last piece to fall into place.

_After that…_

Draco felt himself shake, and hastened his steps to his dorm. The image of Dumbledore appeared in his mind even as the boy tried to focus on other things. His white beard and kind smile, and the twinkle that sometimes darted across his eyes told the blonde that he was a wise and powerful person from the start. Deep down, he respected the old wizard, even knowing that his father would have disapproved. Killing such a man would be a sin, Draco knew, but it was his Master's wish, and he had no choice but to abide.

He was distracted from his train of thoughts when he entered his room. A small pile gathered on top of his bed sheets. As Draco marched nearer towards his bed, he began cursing under his breath.

There was over a dozen Cupid's Pendants lying on top of it. He was wondering when the girls were going to strike. Some of them were in shapes different from what Millicent had told him about (he was sure these were from overseas; the Triwizard tournament had made him quite famous amongst the students in Beaubaton). He took the nearest pendant—one that looked exactly like Millicent's—and found his name on it. Instead of the simple, clean, straight letters he used to see, the letters on this one were slanted to the right and far more decorative. Even though the font suited his taste better, there was something about the loops and curves of the letters that made him have second thoughts. Within seconds, the smooth silver surface began to rust and dissolve into small particles of dust. Draco picked up another one. The same feeling emerged and the pendant turned to dust again. By the time he touched the last one, his bed and carpet were covered in bronze-coloured powder. However, he did notice something besides the obvious: all the indentations on these pendants were more subtle than the one he had picked up. The blonde walked over to his drawer, trying to avoid stepping on the dust. He took out his pendant to confirm his thoughts. Indeed, the letters engraved on its surface seemed to be carved in deeper than it had been a few days ago. _That's how Pansy knew._

Draco played with the silver pendant in his hands idly. _A Gryffindor. _He narrowed his eyes in thought._ Love wouldn't even try to bury itself under that disgusting red and gold. Everyone in that House wants me dead, I'm sure. The question is: which one of them hates me enough to have my name down on the pendant?_

_Granger is a possible suspect__, _the familiar voice suggested. _After all, you did insult her the moment you set eyes on her._

_That's __true. But it couldn't possibly be her, unless she takes being called a Mudblood a personal insult. I mean, she isn't exactly the only Mudblood in Britain, _Draco thought, rolling the silver blade in his palm over and over again.

_What about the Weasleys?_

Draco stopped playing with the pendant to think for a moment. _Maybe. Could be either of them, from the way they glare at me each time I pass them in the halls. I can tell they definitely hate me to the guts. But…. _He looked down at the silver sword and enveloped his fingers around it. He had never felt Ginny Weasley's magic before, and had only seen Ron Weasley perform magic a few times in his earlier years at Hogwarts. But from the little he knew, the aura on the pendant was nowhere close to the Weasel's, and could not possibly belong to his sister either.

_Potter, then?_

The blonde heard a sharp cling by his foot, and realized that he had somehow dropped the pendant. He quickly bent over and picked the metal up from the floor. _Damn it, you knew this was coming Draco,_ he thought bitterly._ Everything that goes on in your life ends up having something to do with the Boy Who Bloody Lived._

Something inside of him faltered and shifted uneasily, like a rock hanging above thin cliff. Yet at the same time, there was a sense of restlessness—almost like excitement. _It had to be him. After all the things I've done to him and his little friends. It had to be Potter._ He caught a thread of disappointment somewhere in his mind, but it was gone before Draco could eliminate it himself. _But I will need more proof than this before making any judgment. _He stored the pendant away in his drawer, but did not place any charms on it in fear of arousing his roommates' attention. He made his way out of the dorm and headed to the library to continue his research on potions and spells.

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"Potter, copy the cards from boxes one thousand and twelve to one thousand and thirty." Harry stared at Snape. If his eyes could fall out this instant, they would.

"But sir, I copied them last week," Harry said, trying to keep his voice as even-tempered as he could.

"Well, you're going to have to recopy it. Mr. Filch had accidentally spilled ink on it the other day when he came to pick the new ones up. He couldn't get the ink off the card." _But _you_ can remove the ink,_ Harry thought angrily. As if reading his thoughts, Snape looked up from the parchment in front of him. "Is there a problem?"

"No sir."

"Then get to work." Sending the man a final glare, the boy sat on the table prepared for him and took the box at the very top. He pulled the first card out to examine the damage, but found it to be completely empty. Thinking that he had mistaken it for a box of unused cards, he turned the box around and found "1012" written on the back. He frowned. Snape had managed to remove the ink from the cards after all. All of it. Giving him the task of rewriting all the cards was bad enough; he would never be able to finish before the end of the term. Snape had no reason to add more to it, unless Harry had irritated him somehow. Even if he did, the boy could not recall offending him in any way off the back of his head.

Harry looked around, and found the original cards in a pile (although Harry was sure that the order had been messed up after they were thrown away and retrieved again). The boy let out a deep but silent sigh. At least they were still there. If Snape had asked him to recall every single word from memory, he would have committed suicide already.

He picked up the quill on the table, dipped it in ink, and began recopying. There was none of that anticipation or tiny jolts of guilt as he saw the misdeeds of his father and Sirius again on paper, which was probably the reaction Snape had expected. By now, his feelings were quite numbed. In fact, it was almost like looking through a Pensieve.

After finishing with the first set of cards, he arranged them in alphabetical order and tucked them inside the box. While he reached for the second one, Harry stole a quick glance at the man sitting by the furthest desk. Snape stared right back with that expressionless face of his, not even trying to avoid eye contact. The boy blinked abruptly and averted his eyes. He returned to work, not daring to look up again. Throughout detention, Harry could occasionally feel the man boring his gaze to his lowered head and forced himself not to squirm.

"Potter." The boy flinched, and the quill in his hand followed, making a mess on the new card he just started. He looked up and saw Snape looming over him like the overgrown bat he was. "You are dismissed. The next session will take time next Saturday at the exact same time." Harry looked over at the clock; it was already quarter pass two.

"Yes, sir," he replied, and began packing the cards away.

"Before you go though," Snape started again, "I would like to have a word with you."

Harry tensed. _The inevitable has finally come. _"W-what is it, sir?"

"I have become aware of the fact that you've been lingering on something which I think you should have left alone a long time ago," the man spoke in his usual puzzle-like manner. "I believe you have confronted the Headmaster not once or twice, but many times about your very wild imagination." Harry's eyes darkened, but he made no attempt to retort. "The Headmaster has told you his thoughts on the matter, and I stand with him. Or do you not trust the Headmaster's perception? The Headmaster would not make rash decisions as you would. He has considered this very carefully, and if you could not see the larger picture, then you have no right to disagree with him."

"I do trust Professor Dumbledore but—"

"You do?" The man eyed him with a mixture of disapproval and disgust. "Because you don't seem to, not when you try to curse Mr. Malfoy."

"I didn't mean to—"

"Are you telling me that it just happened out of the blue? That you were not the one controlling your own wand?" Snape paused, daring Harry to justify in anyway; the brunet did not. Snape resumed, speaking now with a tinge of triumph in his voice. "Don't think I don't know what went on in your head when you were casting that curse." Harry bit the inside of his mouth, hard. If he said anything now, he would fall right into Snape's trap. "Arrogant and selfish. Just like your father."

"My father has nothing to do with this!" Harry bellowed. Snape just crossed the line. "Malfoy was the one who tried to curse me, not the other way around!"

"He _tried_ to curse you, but did he succeed?" Snape was not in any way taken back by Harry's raising voice. If anything, he grew only bolder. "Voldemort has tried to kill you your entire life. Did he succeed? Trying is not the same as doing. An eight-year-old would know the difference." Harry put as much contempt as he could when he stared at the man. "If I ever find you hurting—or even harassing—Malfoy again I will not let it go unnoticed. And I advise you not to challenge my authorities." Snape hissed through pursed lips, effortlessly making the quiet words sound so malicious and threatening. The man stepped away from him and walked back to his desk. "Get out."

Harry was more than glad to get away from the man. He left the gloomy office and remembered to slam the door with all his strength. Blind fury rose from nowhere. Instead of holding it back, the boy just let it brew. He had at least this much right when someone did not respect his opinion, especially when the person showing that disrespect was Snape.

Yet in the midst of his anger, Harry was still conscious of the fact that Snape had not mentioned anything about what happened to Draco the night of their detention. Seeing Snape's reaction just now made him even more skeptical; it looked as if Malfoy had not told the man what happened that night after all. He could feel his rage dissolving, draining slowly out of his system. _Malfoy didn't tell Snape_, Harry thought, feeling the lightness inside him settling. _Even though it would have been a perfect chance to get me and Ron expelled._ The boy felt a wave of gratitude toward the Slytherin, even if this was not the blonde's intention. Satisfied and anger forgotten, Harry made his way to the Gryffindor common room.

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The hallways were a little less crowded than usual; everyone was enjoying their weekend. The corridors remained quiet, other than a few students coming and going. Draco stepped out from the library, where it had been flocked by Ravenclaws ever since breakfast ended. Like every day in the past week, today had been no exception. Even in the massive library of Hogwarts, the blonde still could not find what he needed. There were poisons that caused similar side effects, but they caused more severe hallucinations and had far more symptoms than what Draco was experiencing. Whatever they were, these hallucinations were definitely not a result of the direct or indirect effects of any type of poison. Draco frowned at the thought. He had not expected the search to be so difficult.

The boy descended several flights of stairs. Instead of continuing down, he spun to the left and marched down the halls. He might as well pick up more Dreamless Sleep Potion from the Infirmary while he was nearby. Upon reaching his destination, he pushed open the double doors. Madame Pomfrey sat in her office, focusing on some parchment set in front of her. She put down her quill and took her time to shift her attention from the documents on her desk to the Slytherin standing outside her office.

"Mr. Malfoy." She had a small smile on her face, though her voice lacked that warmth. "What can I do for you today?"

"I need some more Dreamless Sleep Potion. My bottle ran out last night." Draco detected a frown on the woman's face, but she said nothing. Madame Pomfrey disappeared deeper into her office and came back several moments later with the retreated potion in her hand. Instead of handing it to Draco, she placed the bottle on her desk, with one hand snaked around the vial and the other on top.

"I understand that you are having nightmares quite frequently, as you have told me the last time you were here. I don't know how bad they are, but I will assume they are as bad as Mr. Potter's." Draco felt his fingers twitch at the name, but he hid his hands behind his robes. "I must warn you that continuous consumptions of this potion may cause you to develop a dependency on it. In worse scenarios, it can cause long-term addictions. I do not recommend taking it too often; one sip every two nights if the nightmares get worse." Draco nodded, and only then did Madame Pomfrey hand him the bottle.

"Thank you. I will keep that in mind." Draco nodded to her politely and left the Infirmary. He marched back to the stairs and continued descending.

And then it happened. Images came crashing down on him, invading his thoughts and inner eyelids. His breath sped up, becoming shallower each time he inhaled. It was a memory this time, one all too vivid to forget.

He saw his former self in the drawing room of the Manor, its glory and glamour vanished; gloom and darkness had become their counter parts. There were only several candles in the room. Their flickering flames could never penetrate deep enough into the vast darkness. Then a pale figure emerged the shadows, his bony fingers fiddling with his wand. The boy lowered his head. Even though the memory, the fear still seemed so tangible.

"Ah, young Malfoy," the Dark Lord hissed. "It's time you pledged your loyalty."

"Yes, my Lord." The boy bowed even lower.

"Your hand, my boy." The blonde held his arm out without hesitation. The calmness had only been a façade; his doubts and fear lay right beneath it, ready to burst.

The claw-like hand clasped around the boy's arm, squeezing it with a force that turned the skin around the deathly white fingers red. The boy flinched and took a step back, then realized what he had just done. "My Lord, I—"

"I understand the power of fear, young Malfoy," the Dark Lord whispered in a tone that seemed to slice through his flesh. "Fear can manipulate the mind, and can often drive it to the edge of insanity if not insanity itself. But after this, there shall be no more. You shall stand above fear. You shall conquer fear." The Dark Lord curved his lips, looking more snake-like than ever. "Now then, shall we begin?" The boy nodded hesitantly.

The man reached for his wand, and pointed its tip at the boy's pale flesh. He opened his mouth, whispering a long string of incantation like ancient hymns. The blonde felt a stab of pain where the wand was pointing, as if that single spot had been pierced with thousands of needles. He bit down on his tongue to prevent himself from uttering a single sound. The wand moved slowly—painfully—to carve out every single detail. All he could do was to wait.

After what seemed like forever, the Dark Lord tucked away his wand and released his hold on the blonde, who immediately knelt on his knees.

"From now on, you shall serve me, but not like your father had. You shall serve me _better_."

"Yes, my Lord," the boy said, barely a whisper. The man brushed past the blonde and entered the shadows once more.

Draco's knees threatened to give in. He gripped the handle of the stairs to keep from collapsing all together. The memory had dissolved into nothingness, yet the images still haunted him. The boy panted, taking in more air than it was necessary, as if he had just learnt to breathe for the first time. After several moments, when he was sure he was strong enough to walk again, Draco let go of the handle and walked down a few steps.

He did not have time to prepare himself for what came after.

He saw his father standing in front of him, with a neutral expression considered neither warm nor cold. Yes, this man was his father. This was how he had remembered him before Azkaban, before everything went wrong. The blonde man smiled. Though the curve of his lips was small, Draco could see pride and recognition in it. The boy could not put into words how happy he was to see that smile.

In a flash, the scene had changed. He stood in darkness, where only small holes managed to bring light inside. He could see shadows floating in and out, and he could hear the endless moans and cries. This must be Azkaban.

In the far corner, he could make out the outline of a human figure in the dim cell. The hole on the right exposed platinum-blonde hair that resembled his own. It was his father. Draco opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He tried again, but still could not speak the words he longed to say.

"Lucius Malfoy." The voice startled Draco and sent shivers down his spine. He knew the voice; it was the Dark Lord. "Your son had failed." Even without light, the blonde could tell that his Master had a smile on his face as he spoke. "What do you think should be done about it?"

"My Lord," his father whispered, his voice raspy and tired. "I shall take full responsibility in his failure."

"Very well." The Dark Lord reached into his sleeve and took out his wand. "_Crucio!"_

His father shrieked, the sound piercing his heart. He could never imagine his father—the proud man he knew—like this. Draco screamed and watched helplessly as his father trembled madly under the curse. He did not know how long it had last until the Dark Lord finally broke the spell.

"Your punishment is nearly over." The man raised his wand again. "_Avada Kedavra!_"

"_No!_" Draco sprung forward, reaching his hand out to his father, as if hoping to shield him from the Killing Curse. Instead, he was sent back to reality once more. He felt the air breeze past his face and hair, and the lack of solid marble beneath his feet.

He was falling.

His knees collided with the sharp edge of the stairs, then his shoulders. His body began to roll down. He could feel the pang of pain on his limp torso and limbs. The blonde did not utter a sound, still too shocked to react in any way.

There was no way to stop this.

He did not know how and when another's warmth wrapped around him. He could feel rough fabric against his skin, the arms that hooked around his body, and a hand holding his head in place. The pain suddenly became much more endurable. The motion came to an abrupt halt. Whoever held him winced, but did not let go.

The weight on Draco's eyelids doubled, tripled, forcing them to shut. With his last strength, the Slytherin tilted his head up, hoping to discover the face of his savior. Before his eyes closed completely, Draco caught the fringes of familiar unruly hair.


	9. Words and Pain

**Author's Note:** Thanks for all the reviews everyone! I apologize for the late update, but I hope all would be forgiven after you read this chapter. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters, as they belong to J. K. Rowling. No money is being made from this.

**Summary: **AU HBP, HPDM slash. Harry decided to visit Draco in the hospital after the Sectumsempra incident, and finds an unexpected side of the young Slytherin. Realization hits the two of them as they became friends and something more. But timeis running out.

* * *

**Chapter ****Nine — Words and Pain  
**

"You're finally awake." Draco jerked his head around, startled by Madame Pomfrey's voice. His body felt a trace of lingering, but bearable soreness that followed his movement. The Healer approached his bed with a tray in her hand. On top were several bottles of various colours and sizes. She set it on the table beside his bed and began to prepare his potions. "When did you become a regular patient here? You probably see me more often than some of your professors." the woman let out a sigh as she scooped out a spoonful of yellow liquid from inside one of the containers to an empty glass.

"I guess so." The blonde took the glass the Healer handed him, and downed it in one gulp. It was orange-flavoured, he noted. "How long was I out?"

"Dinner is starting in a few minutes. You do the calculation," Madame Pomfrey said, handing him another glass. This time, the liquid was dark green.

"So…what happened?" Draco asked, and drank the potion slowly; not that he could go any faster. Unlike the first, this liquid was bitter and felt sticky inside his mouth.

"Don't you remember anything?" Madame Pomfrey paused and looked at the blonde with one quirked eyebrow.

"I remember myself falling…and I think someone caught me. But that's it."

"You've got the large picture. You dislocated your shoulder and fractured your right kneecap. Other than that, a few minor bruises and cuts." She handed him a third bottle, which looked to be the last one. It was a colourless, odorless substance that tasted much like water, though Draco was sure it was not. Madame Pomfrey took away his glass and set it on the table. "But they're almost completely healed now. There would have been a lot more damage if Mr. Potter wasn't around."

Draco shut his eyes in utter disbelieve, but opened them quickly before Madame Pomfrey turned to face him. "Is he here in the Infirmary, too? Potter, I mean."

"Yes, he is." The Healer uncorked another set of bottles and poured it into two different containers this time. "He's sleeping on the bed right next to yours."

Draco felt a tug in his chest. "How badly is he hurt?" He immediately regretted asking such a question. Why the hell would he care about what condition Potter was in? _It's not as if I'm his mother_. Yet he was still oddly curious about all this.

"Not as bad as you. Just minor cuts and bruises. Nothing too serious." She arranged the glass cups on Draco's table, along with the empty ones. "I'm going to tell the house-elves to bring dinner here for you both. I'll be back in a minute or two. If he wakes up while I'm gone, tell him to drink the potions on the table, will you?" She rose from the stool and took the tray in her hand. As she stepped through the write curtain, she paused and turned around, with a peculiar smile on her face. "You do know he saved your life?" The question was more of a statement than anything. Before he could say anything, the woman had left.

Draco fell back into the pillows, easing into its softness. He shifted his attention to the right, but his gaze could see no further than the white curtain that hung like a wall. He could barely make out the vague shape of the other boy's body, though; the silhouette indicated that Potter was still on his bed, sleeping probably.

The blonde slid out of bed. The touch of marble floor felt like ice underneath his bare feet, adding shivers to his already-sore body. The boy did not mind the coldness. In fact, it was quickly forgotten as he walked forward. He brushed aside the curtains, revealing the Gryffindor. The boy was indeed sleeping; his eyes were shut with a thick blanket tucked securely under his chin. Potter looked so different with his eyes closed; perhaps it was the lack of those hideously-round, over-large glasses, or maybe it was just the sense of stillness and quietness of the environment. Whatever the reason, Draco felt himself being drawn like a puppet on strings; he was fascinated. _He doesn't even realize how vulnerable he is right now_. The thought passed his mind, almost instinctively. _Anyone could kill him right now. _I_ could kill him right now._

He wanted to hurt him, to cast a spell and wake him up and make Potter hurl insults at him. He wanted Potter to _look_ at him.

It was that instant that Potter chose to open his eyes.

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Harry fluttered his eyes several times before he could fully open them. He pushed himself up to lean against the pillows on his back, and turned to retrieve his glasses. He could not see a damn thing without them. As he turned, he noticed a figure in the corner of his eye. He was sure it was a figure because that blob of green was never there before. The boy squinted to try to prove his speculations.

"Put your glasses back on already." The voice belonged to no other but Malfoy. Harry immediately shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Malfoy." The blonde disappeared behind the white curtain, only to reappear with two glass cups in his hands. Harry quirked one eyebrow.

"Drink," he said. Seeing no response from Harry, the blonde added, "They're not poisonous. Madame Pomfrey said to tell you to drink these when you wake up. Would I be stupid enough to poison the mighty Boy-Who-Lived in broad daylight?"

Harry went on staring at the potion. As much as he would like to believe Malfoy had poisoned the potions, the Slytherin was right; they were in the _Infirmary_. Madame Pomfrey would be back any minute now. Hermione would agree with him. Ron though, would probably act otherwise. Being poisoned, however, was not his worst fear.

He took the cups from the blonde, and winced at their smell. He took a sip, licked his lips, and drank the first glass in one gulp. The second one soon followed. He did not particularly like the taste linger on his tongue, but it was not as bad as he had imagined. He set the glass cups onto the table on his right. Faint footsteps could be heard from just beyond the entrance. Moments later, Madame Pomfrey came into sight

"Mr. Potter," she said. "I believe you've drank the potions?"

"Yes, I have," Harry said, gesturing to the empty glass on the table.

"Good." With a flick of her wand, the glass rose into the air and landed in her outstretched hand. "I have informed the house-elves of your stay here. They will be bringing your meals in shortly. Now rest." She turned to look at the blonde as well. "You too, Mr. Malfoy." With that, she walked off.

Harry turned his head, but Malfoy had already vanished behind the white curtain, leaving the fabric swaying back and forth. A tiny pop caught Harry's attention. His eyes travelled to the corner where the noise came from, just in time to catch two house-elves Apparating, each holding a tray full of food. One of them disappeared behind the curtains and the other came towards Harry's bed and laid the tray down on a stool beside it. Harry thanked the house-elf, who hopped in glee and Apparanted. The boy took the tray to put on his lap, and began eating, taking a sip of the glass of pumpkin juice once in a while. The taste of Cornish pasties had definitely rid his mouth of the foul-tasting potions.

The boy could not help but steal glances to his left, even knowing that there was a curtain between his cubicle and the next. He would catch glimpses of platinum-blonde hair at times, but that was all.

His curiosity was at work again; Malfoy had not put on that get-out-of-my-way, don't-mess-with-me, or sod-off look. In fact he seemed a little too quiet, a little too subdued, in comparison with the Prince of Slytherin that Harry had grown to know so well. Yet the Gryffindor knew — just knew — that the blonde on the other side was Draco Malfoy and not some imposter.

He could not remember how long he immersed himself in those thoughts before the house-elves reappeared again. Harry handed his tray to the elf that came forward to collect it. It was the same elf from earlier, he noted. With a small nod, the creature left the ward and Apparanted out of the Infirmary. The other house-elf soon followed, hopping and nearly toppling the tray she was holding. Harry traced her movements with his eyes until she Apparanted, a frown between his brows. The food on the tray she carried was barely touched. Before he had time to let loose his thoughts, Madame Pomfrey entered his ward again, with two glasses of potion in her hand. She came up to him and handed him a glass.

"This will make your wounds heal a little faster, though you will feel a little drowsier after drinking it." She smiled, and handed Harry the potion. She took his empty cup and marched off to Malfoy's ward. "You too, Mr. Malfoy," he heard her say. Moments later, Madam Pomfrey left with Good-Nights to the two of them. With a wave of her wand, the flames dimmed until there was only darkness.

Harry slid deeper into his blanket, removing his glasses and tucking the sheets under his chin as he turned on his bed. He could hear the rustling of the fabrics against one another from Malfoy's ward. Soon, the room was once again seeped in silence. Despite the potion, his mind was still agitated. _No, _he decided, _the potion was not working yet._ He closed his eyes.

The gentle breeze brought with it murmurs of leaves and quiet hooting from outside. Harry let go of his thoughts and dived himself in its harmony. If he stopped thinking of random things, maybe the potion would be able to take affect much quicker.

"Potter." Harry opened his eyes slowly. Was it his imagination, or was Malfoy calling him? "Potter." The blonde's voice sounded again. This time, Harry's mind snapped back in place.

"Potter."

"Malfoy, I heard you" Harry rolled around to face the curtain between his and Malfoy's bed. "What is it?"

"Why did you do it?"

Harry frowned. "Do what?"

"Don't play dumb with me. You just caught me, Draco Malfoy—a Slytherin, your nemesis, someone who hates you, someone you despise—falling from a flight of very long staircase."

The brunet frowned. "What kind of question is that, Malfoy? What, do you think I'd stand there and do nothing?"

"Actually, that's exactly what I expected you to do. I wouldn't be here asking you that if I knew the answer now, would I?" Harry could hear familiar pride ringing in Malfoy's voice, dabbed with an underlying tone of suppressed anger. "Just answer the bloody question."

Harry rolled his eyes, despite the fact that Malfoy could not see any of his actions. "Would you quit being a prick, Malfoy? Just because we're enemies doesn't mean I enjoy seeing you soaked in blood—" He stopped, regretting ever letting those words escape through his lips.

"That doesn't sound exactly convincing to me, Potter. Not after all those nasty things you and your friends have done to me." Harry felt an uncomfortable churn added to his already-sick stomach. The memories of his detention with Malfoy lashed back at his mind like whips. He forced his eyes shut, and took a deep breath. Yet, the scenes kept coming back to him.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered. He heard the rustling of sheets and the pattering of barefoot across the marble floor. Before he had time to react, Malfoy had flung aside the curtain, standing in front of him with a look of utter annoyance.

"Would you stop with the fucking apologies?" Malfoy's voice was even and cold. "I'm sick of hearing 'sorry's from you. It's just a word; It can't change anything. So stop it already." The Slytherin walked back behind the curtain. "Thank you for saving my arse, Potter, but that's the last of it. Whatever happens to me, that's my business."

Harry felt a tightness in his chest, almost resembling pain. Even though Malfoy had been a twit, he could not bring himself to feel angry; if he did, he would probably hurt Malfoy again. The Gryffindor removed his glasses and pulled the blanket over his head, waiting for sleep to take him.

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Draco casted a Silencing Charm on himself the moment he walked past the curtains. He gathered his clothing as quickly as possible, and pulled the robe over his shoulders. As soon as he slid into his shoes, he left the ward. There was absolutely no way that he would spend the night in the Infirmary, not when his very comfortable bed was still intact to the grounds of the Dungeon. _Not when Potter's sleeping in the ward next to mine._

After making sure Madame Pomfrey was no longer in the Infirmary, Draco left the Hospital Wing and headed for the Dungeon. The fact that it was still meal-time made it much easier to maneuver around the castle.

The blonde halted in front of his destination and whispered the password, then walked inside. Surprisingly, no one occupied the common room. Usually, the Slytherin would take the opportunity to have the space for himself, but today was not the day. He walked to his dormitory, tossing his clothing and robe at the edge of his bed while throwing himself onto the mattress.

Draco pulled the blanket over himself and buried his head in the nearest pillow. He knew why that bloody Gryffindor had saved him; he could see it in his eyes. Potter had done it out of pity. He could not bear to remember the way sympathy seeped through his eyes. The emerald orbs had been so clear that the emotion magnified. _No._ The blonde shut his eyes._ Don't look at me like that. That's not the way I wanted you to see me._

The blonde took out the pendant from his drawers. It was becoming a habit now, for him to see it every day. He let an odd smile touch his lips. It was so unlike himself, getting so attached to something. _Even if it was from a Gryffindor._ With the last thought still ringing in his mind, the boy stashed away the pendant. _I won't let Potter take pity on me again,_ Draco thought, and closed his eyes. _I won't._

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Harry stuffed himself with yet another mouthful of oatmeal. He did not particularly like the taste, but he knew it would keep him going for the day, so he repeated the motion.

The boy had woken up early to go back to his dormitory to get dressed, only to find that Malfoy was already gone. It was a minor matter, he knew, but he kept thinking about it.

Until Malfoy himself walked through the doors of the Great Hall.

The blonde looked over at the Gryffindor table and met Harry's gaze with a sneer, then walked to his own table.

"What does he want anyways?" He heard Ginny say, and seconds later realized that she was talking about Malfoy.

"What else?" Ron snorted. "Everyone knows he wants to drive Harry insane in the worst way possible. Pity. Something he can't buy with money." Hermione sent him a glare and that was the last of his comments.

"Harry, how's your injuries?" Ginny asked.

"No worries," Harry replied. "I'm good as new." He had only told them that he accidentally fell off the stairs and had stayed in the Infirmary until morning; Malfoy was, of course, left out of the picture.

Just then, an owl swooped down and dropped a tiny package onto the empty spot beside Harry's bowl of oatmeal. The boy knew what it was. He sighed and peeled away the brown packaging.

"I think I should act jealous for the next few hours," Ginny said jokingly. "Thirty pendants in five days."

"It's not like I asked for it." Harry stroked the surface of the pendant and it turned to dust instantly.

"George and Fred must be making Gallons after Gallons." Ron said matter-of-factly. "But Harry I'm really curious. Whose name's on your pendant? It's just about the hottest topic in Hogwarts."

"So much for not gossiping." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'm not gossiping! I'm simply wanting to know my best mate better. Don't you agree with me, Gin?"

"I don't think speaking with a primary source is considered gossiping, either," Ginny said. "Besides, I've never heard Harry talk about this before."

"Well, suit yourselves. I'm all finished here," Hermione cut in. "Time for me to go to the Library."

"I'll go with you," Harry offered, happy to get out of the situation.

"Hey, don't think you'll get out of this one so easily."

"I'm not! I've got to research for my Herbology essay. You know Ron, it's due tomorrow." Hermione looked at him disapprovingly, but said nothing.

"You mean you still haven't started? Hermione actually made me finish it in one sitting yesterday. Fine. I'll let you go this time."

"Chit-chatting can wait until later. Somebody's got an essay to finish." Hermione stepped up to leave.

"All right, mate. I'll see you at lunch." Ron waved the two of them goodbye as they left for the stairs.

"I think I can help you with the assignment," said Hermione as they turned a corner. "Besides, I might learn a thing or two."

"As if you don't know enough already."

Madame Pince quickly looked over at the two of them as they entered the Library, but let her probing gaze drop after spotting Hermione. They walked over to the far side to look in the plants section.

"It's ok, Hermione," Harry spoke softly so the Librarian wouldn't hear. "The essay was long done. I just wanted to get away from the two of them."

"Well, I'm surprised. I thought you'd want to spend more time with Ginny."

"Yeah, I thought I did." Harry leaned onto the bookshelf and sighed. "I guess I just wanted some space for myself."

"I understand. I would probably feel the same way in that situation." A grin formed on her face and she began chuckling softly. "Oh, the look on your face made it sound like such a big deal. Now I want to know, too"

"Not another one," Harry sighed, rolling his eyes. He carelessly picked a title from the shelf and began flipping through the pages.

"I was kidding. If I were really serious, you'd be confessing under Veritaserum. Besides, it's probably one of those things that's so unexpected that it becomes expected in the end. I wouldn't be surprised if the name carved on your pendant was Malfoy's."

The boy froze. "Don't be stupid. Why would I want anything to do with Malfoy?"

"Come on. You're _obsessed_ with him." Harry opened his mouth but Hermione continued before he could make a sound. "Don't even try to deny it. The whole school knows about it. I mean, every time he challenges you, you accept it without even the slightest doubt. And this year, you're practically following him every second you've got. Do you know how much time and energy you've put into all this?"

"We're rivals. What do you expect?" Harry felt every muscle in his body tensing involuntarily, but there was little he could do to ease the tension and the growing nervousness. "And just because you don't believe me about his involvement in Voldemort's task doesn't mean he isn't involved."

"We've been through this, Harry! You're not being practical. How is he supposed contact _anyone_ outside of Hogwarts without being _monitored?_"

"Have you thought about Dark—"

"Shh!" The two of them turned around to find Madame Pince standing right behind them with pursed lips, looking as stern as ever. "This is a _Library_," she hissed, then whirled around to face Hermione. "I didn't expect this kind of behavior from you."

The girl blushed in embarrassment and muttered something that sounded like "sorry, Madame", then nodded to the Librarian and left without having to be told, while Harry followed behind.

When he turned the corner, Hermione was already out of sight. Sighing, the boy headed back to the common room.

As he climbed through the portrait hole, he heard loud giggles coming from inside. He peered inside and found Ginny sitting with her group of friends on the couch. They seem totally ignorant of his presence at the moment.

"So?" the brunette on the far side asked. "How does it feel to be girlfriend of the Boy-Who-Lived?"

"Don't call him that! He doesn't like it very much." Harry was glad that she had defended him.

"Never mind that! Can you stop changing the topic? You're always avoiding us when it comes to your boyfriend." Ginny's cheeks coloured at the comment. "What? It's not like you made a Vow with him."

"Okay, all right." The redhead raised both hands in mercy. "Ask away."

"I've always wanted to know," the short-haired blonde spoke excitedly. "How did you guys ended up going out? I know he's your brother's best mate and all…"

"Well…" Ginny looked away, "I asked him if he wanted to go out with me." The two other girls squealed.

"Anything exciting happened since you started going out with him?" The question only made Ginny blush harder.

"We had a really nice dinner. Here, at Hogwarts of course. And then we…" she muttered something inaudible.

"What?" The two girls leaned in closer.

"I said we kissed!" Ginny said, shutting her eyes in embarrassment. Her face was flushed a deep pink. The girls only screamed louder.

Suddenly the portrait swung open, and a few third-years walked in. The girls spun around and spotted Harry among the crowd.

"You guys should spend some quality time alone. We'll catch you later, Ginny!" With that the two girls fled upstairs.

"Have you been eavesdropping on us the entire time?" She narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"No. Only parts of it." Ginny quirked her eyebrows. "Anyways, where's Ron?"

"Up in his room. Reading Quidditch Through the Ages for the thousandth time, I reckon. How come you're back so early? I thought you had to research for your essay." She leaned back on the sofa, throwing both her arms behind her head.

"The research is done, thanks to Hermione," Harry lied. "But unfortunately, I was being too loud and we got kicked out." He strolled over to the armchair right next to her and took a seat. She took the boy's hand and placed his palm on top of hers. He closed his eyes and indulged himself in the comfortable silence and her warm touch.

"You still owe me an answer, you know that right?"

"What?" The boy opened his eyes lazily, like a bear coming out of hibernation.

"You still haven't told me whose name's on your pendant yet." Ginny shot forward and leaned in towards him.

"I thought this conversation had ended when I left to go to the Library."

"Well, it hasn't." He felt the pressure increase as Ginny's fingers squeezed his own.

"Why do you want to know so badly, anyways?" Harry mimicked her movements as he pulled himself away from the cushions. "It's a minor matter."

"I want to know more about you, Harry. What you like to eat, your favourite class, your hobbies—"

"Ginny. I love Quidditch, and that's about all the hobby I have."

"I mean, sure we're in a relationship now, and we used to be pretty good friends, but if you really think about you, I don't know very much about your interests, or your past, at all." Harry noted the restlessness in her voice; he was almost certain that there was desperateness mixed in there somewhere, as well.

"What else is there to know about me? I'm who I am. None of my interests, or my past, affects me as being who I am. Just because I don't know your whole life doesn't mean that we can't get along with each other."

"I can tell you—"

"That's not the point, Ginny!" The boy threw his arms out in frustration. "Why would knowing the name on that pendant be such an essential piece of information?"

"Because I'm your girlfriend, that's why!" Ginny jumped out of her seat as she spoke. Harry could barely recognize the words that came out of her mouth. He could barely recognize her with the expression on her face. "I ought to have a right to know these things! If it really were such a 'minor matter', like you said it was, then why won't you tell me?"

"Ginny, it's my choice to tell whom what. It is not of your _concern_—" Ginny closed the distance between them as she approached with raised arm. Her palm landed on Harry's cheeks with a loud crackle, sending him a few steps back. Harry stared at her with bewilderment, and she stared back with an equal amount of shock. He opened his mouth to speak, yet the words on the tip of his tongue did not emerge. A long moment of silence engulfed them both, and neither seemed to have the intention to break free from it.

"Oh Merlin," were her first words. Or at least that was what Harry thought she had said. He saw her lips move but, oddly, he could hear no sound. Ginny began to shake her head. She seemed to be apologizing. Tears dripped down the sides of her cheeks, yet he could not find the need to comfort her, or to say anything at all. He felt almost impassive towards the Ginny that he was seeing right in front of his eyes. _How very strange,_ he thought, _I would never treat Ginny like this before_.

_And she had__n't demanded you to answer something like that before, either_. The voice, after disappearing for so long, seemed to have finally come back to life.

Harry snapped out of his trance as he noticed Ginny taking a step forward, and he instinctively backed away. His retreat rendered her from coming closer. Without another word, the girl fled upstairs, sobbing as she did so.

Anger settled in his belly. He could feel it bubbling, sizzling, but much to his surprise, Harry did not feel compelled to let his anger run mad like a hurricane. He climbed back out the portrait hole and decided to go to the Quidditch pitch to do some flying. Flying kept him in order and his mood intact. If he were lucky, no one else should be occupying it at this time of the day, and he would be able to have the whole field for himself.

Once he reached the shed, he took out the Firebolt and mounted on top. The blast of air he encountered as he kicked off felt refreshing as it hit his face. It felt like ages since he last flew. Ron had always said that he belonged in class Aves.

He performed loops and dives one after another, many of which he had become quite familiar with over the few years. Yet he was thrilled to execute them again and again, as if they gave him a new set of feelings every single time. As he spent more time flying in the sky, the incident earlier was slowly forgotten and his mind also began to clear up. Somewhere in the process, Hermione's words came back to him.

_You're_ obsessed_ with him._

_I most certainly am _not_!_ The Gryffindor shook his head, knowing fully well that he could not get rid of his thoughts just like that.

…_Am I?_

Sure, he had been busy hunting hard evidences of Malfoy actually associating with the Death Eaters, and even Voldemort himself, but he was far from being _obsessed._ It was too strong of a word.

_Then what do you think this is?_ The voice in the back of his head asked.

_Curiosity._The voice did not comment again, but Harry knew he had lost the argument. The force that drove him was not curiosity. If it were indeed, he would not be trying to make up for his misdeeds, even knowing that Malfoy would never forgive him, least saving his life.

He felt an uncomfortable squeeze in both his stomach and his chest. The Slytherin had rejected his amendments. It was not so much that he could not be forgiven, but the fact that his efforts were being ignored.

Feeling that he had stayed up in the sky long enough, Harry navigated his Firebolt to ground level and dismounted. He wiped off the sweat from his forehead with his sweater, and put away his broom back inside the shed. He preferred to take the shower in his own dorm, where the water was warmer and more comfortable.

As he began his journey back to the castle, he noticed someone else coming his way. He recognized the face of the familiar blonde, wearing a grey blouse and dark slacks, and, of course, the trademark expression of absolute zero. The grey tinge in his skin was almost gone, but somehow the blonde radiated a sense of fragility, even with that haughty posture.

_Maybe Malfoy's back on his "mission"._ The thought alerted Harry, but he decided not to make any abrupt moves just yet. With each step, Harry felt an unnamed anticipation.

The moment finally came as they came steps away. Harry slowed his strides to a stroll. He expected insults being hurled at him and the exchanging of venous words.

But none came his way. Malfoy continued to walk down the field, like he had not noticed Harry's presence. It felt like a bucket of cold water dumped on top of him. He was disregarded, completely.

_Malfoy…_

"What?" Harry was startled by Malfoy's voice. He veered around and saw the blonde looking over his shoulders.

"What?" The Gryffindor questioned back. "Did you want something?"

"You were the one who called me."

"Oh," Harry said after a long moment. He did not realize that he had called Malfoy's name out loud. Then it occurred to the brunet that this was perhaps the most stupid response he had given to Malfoy. _I have to think of something to say, fast._

"If you ever find your words, let me know. I'll make sure to help you throw them away permanently." The Slytherin had beat Harry to the finish line. "If you will excuse me." Malfoy wheeled around.

"Wait, Malfoy—"

"You thought that I'd be throwing insults at you, didn't you? You thought — or shall I say, hoped — that things would just go back to the way it had been?" Harry heard Malfoy laugh. "Aren't you naïve. Maybe you can, but there's no way I can go back. And I won't." The blonde at last turned around, revealing nothing from his expression. His grey eyes were passionless, yet there seemed to be another layer on top of his iris that kept his emotions trapped inside, like an artificial filter almost.

"Nothing is ever too late." Harry heard himself say.

"I don't want to hear something like this from the source of my misery." The blonde said nothing more, and continued down the path. Harry watched the other boy as he walked further away, until he disappeared into the broom shed. The Gryffindor left and headed inside the castle.

Later that day, Harry had lunch at the Great Hall. Ginny was not there; Ron said that she never came down from her room since morning. Harry would stare outside the window from time to time. Sometimes he would even catch a glimpse of a broom sweeping by in the air. He half-hoped that Malfoy was riding that broom and that the blonde would get his weird "conditions" again and fall off his broom. It would never happen, he knew.

He thought about Malfoy's last words. _You thought — or shall I say, hoped — that things would just go back to the way it had been._

_I know, Malfoy. I__t would never happen._


	10. Revelation

**Author's Note:** First of all, thank you for all the reviews! They are all so wonderful and lovely! I'm so sorry for not having updated earlier. It has been a busy two years, and with the plot bunny not showing up, it was just that much harder. I began this chapter, hoping to progress the relationship between Harry and Draco, but I'm afraid I got carried away so none of that this chapter. I apologize again for the (rather unacceptable) delay, and I hope you would enjoy reading this chapter!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters, as they belong to J. K. Rowling. No money is being made from this.

**Summary: **AU HBP, HPDM slash. Harry decided to visit Draco in the hospital after the Sectumsempra incident, and finds an unexpected side of the young Slytherin. Realization hits the two of them as they became friends and something more. But time is running out.

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**Chapter Ten — Revelation**

Draco paced softly within the corridors of the Dungeon. He seemed surprisingly alert at this hour of the day—but the shadows under his eyes seemed to tell otherwise. For a moment, the blonde thought that he could still feel the texture of the cool, pale claws as they slithered across his skin.

_There is nothing to be frightened about._ The voice rung in his head.

The scent of death lingered in the air, long after the end of the dark, bloody ritual.

_In exchange for your loyalty, you shall have as you wish._

Behind his master's crimson eyes were own stormy grey orbs, dull and broken from the poison known as fear.

A nameless feeling suddenly seized him—a hybrid of anger and despair and frustration yet unlike any of them. Perhaps it had been there long ago, surfacing only now like a hidden predator striking too vicious, too fast, and before he knew it, this anonymous emotion had coursed through his every vein.

The blonde shuttered, and reach for the arm branded by the Mark of his Lord. He had endured this same cruelty the past few nights. In these nightmares, there would always be corpses. Sometimes, the face was his father's, sometimes his mother's, and sometimes, his own. Not even the Dreamless Sleep potion could buy him a few hours of peace anymore. The boy was beginning to think that there would be no end to the torture.

Ducking under a few low arches, the blonde crawled up a flight of stone steps and out of the castle walls. As he embraced the night wind, Draco trailed the long field grass and headed to the Black Lake—it was the last of his havens.

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Harry gazed straight ahead at the other side of the room between bites of sandwich. Since their conversation by the Quidditch pitch, Harry expected more or less of an echo from Malfoy. However, the blonde seemed quite determined to shut out his existence. So here he sat, glaring knives at the Slytherin.

"Harry, mate." His field of vision was suddenly overwhelmed by red hair and a pair of waving hands. As if counting on the distraction, the blonde stood up and platinum locks were lost behind a wall of moving Ravenclaws. "You've been staring into space for the last ten minutes. Anything the matter?"

"No," Harry turned to Ron and gave what he hoped was an assuring smile. "I've just been caught up in my own thoughts, that's all." He had forgotten that he was supposed to be having lunch.

"Well, you've been acting rather odd lately. Right, Gin?" Ron turned to his sister. She stared at her plate, having disregarded his question altogether. Ginny, like Malfoy, had continued to regard Harry as if he wore the Invisibility Cloak, looking but never seeing. Everyone had noticed—except Ron of course.

Hermione stood up as her empty plate disappeared. "I'm going to get my books for Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Later," Harry and Ron said in unison. It wasn't long before the others left to prepare for their next classes, too. It was only when Ron patted his shoulders that Harry realized most of the Gryffindors were gone. He and Ginny were among the only ones left at the table. It would be a wise decision to retreat now, before the awkward silence turned into something worse. The boy mumbled a quick goodbye and got up.

"Wait, Harry." He turned, almost expecting a slap across his face, half-wishing for a confrontation so that that it would end of their awkward tension. "Can you meet me at the Astronomy Tower at midnight?"

Harry agreed, though he dared not to ask why the meeting had to be at such a late hour. He bid her goodbye for the second time and left for Defence Against the Dark Arts.

The brunet stepped into the classroom and took a seat on the left hand side near the front, where he always sat with Ron. Hermione was the next to enter, and sat directly behind him, while Ron was among the last, creeping into his seat just in time before Snape came out of his office.

"Open your books to page 246." Dully, Harry dragged the thick, heavy book from his bag and turned the pages. He never had a passion for textbooks. In fact, his hatred for them only amplified with Snape teaching his favourite subject. It was hard enough listening to the old bat's monotonous voice drone on. When it became too hard to focus, Harry tuned out the drawl and let his thoughts take over instead.

The past few days seemed like a mere dream. So many things had happened so quickly.

Where were Ginny's smiles? He hadn't seen her beam like the sun since summer. He missed playing Quidditch with her, the way they used to back at the Burrows. It were as if yesterday that he saw Ginny gliding in the tall grass field on her broom with the grace and fierceness of an eagle, stroking through the air as if bound by nothing but the limits of the deep-blue sky. Yet all of that became more distant by day, slipping away without him noticing. And when he had the time to finally reminisce, nothing was the way it used to be.

He wasn't entirely sure that tonight's meeting with Ginny would be a good idea. Almost immediately after their conversation, Harry had wanted to run after her and apologize to her, and beg her for forgiveness; he wished could undo all of yesterday and hurt himself instead of her. But despite his desire to reconcile, there was something foreboding about mending their relationship—some part of him was resisting the idea of erasing the entire event and starting anew.

A spurt of pain spread from the side of his ribs to the rest of his chest, leaving a tingling sensation where Ron jabbed his elbow into Harry. The boy let out a grunt and shot a look at Ron, who ignored him and buried his nose in his book.

"Ah, Mr. Potter." Harry looked up and saw Snape's looming figure. "I see you have your book open today. Well then, a simple question wouldn't hurt.

"Incantations, especially ones associated with Dark Magic, mostly have their roots in what wizards consider as foreign languages, such as Old English or Hebrew. How do these incantations differ from the ones rooted in Latin or Greek?"

A frown appeared between Harry's brows. "Professor, I thought foreign spells weren't taught until our final year." Almost immediately, Snape answered with a mocking sneer.

"Potter, tell me now, what would you do if you were to face a sudden, unexpected—_foreign_—situation? I doubt 'I don't know' will solve the problem." The man paused, waiting as thought expecting someone to break the silence with a grunt of laughter. When no one did, he went on. "The Killing Curse, Potter, is an example. After all, you've lived with it your entire life." No one dared to look up as Snape returned to his desk.

Harry used every effort to restrain the violence that threatened to lash out, and instead dug his nails deep into the palms of his flesh to let the pulsating pain distract his need to punch the man in the face. _Keep it together, Harry. Don't let Snape get to you._

For the rest of class, Harry hid himself behind his textbook, while letting not a single syllable Snape uttered enter his head. If Snape noticed, he didn't bother mentioning it.

"That's it for today's class." Harry shut his book, more than happy to get out of this room. "Potter. My office." The brunet snapped his head up, having the urge to kick a chair or a desk, but he was determined to keep his anger tamed. Snape would only use it to his advantage anyways. The older man made his way up the stairs and Harry followed, hands clawing into his own flesh.

"Do you know why I've called you here, Potter?" Snape shut the door when they were both inside, then slowly made his way to his desk. The boy remained silent and alert. If Snape wanted to make more sarcastic remarks about his not paying attention in class, he would not go down without a fight.

"Draco Malfoy."

Harry hitched his breath at the sound of the name. _So this is where we're heading. _

"Cursing him in the boys' bathroom, following him in the middle of the night, fighting with him during detention, and once again you were there when he fell from the stairs."

"If you were wondering, I _didn't_ push him," Harry lowered his voice dangerously. A wild anger withered inside him, begging to be unleashed.

"No." The man narrowed his eyes. "I'm insisting that you stay away from Malfoy. I've told you already to leave him be. But once again, you've proven to me that you are incapable of doing so. Fifty points from Gryffindor."

"I had nothing to do with his falling from the stairs!"

"Yes. But your argument does seem remarkably less convincing when you happened to be the centre of all action," Snape snorted, shifting to another corner of the room. "Don't think that I didn't know you've been deliberately tracking down Malfoy's whereabouts. I am going to warn you for the last time; do as the Headmaster asked you to and leave him alone." Snape paused, as though to check the boy was actually listening. "The Headmaster knows what he's doing. If you had any trust in him—any trust at all—you would do as I say and leave Malfoy alone. Stupid boy. You don't even know the extent of the damage you would caused."

"I'm not about to wait and watch his evil plans unfold." Not caring what the man would do next, the boy wheeled around and went for the door.

"Intuition, knowledge and experience. Missing any one of those elements and you shall pay dearly. Right now you've only got one." Harry paused, almost surprised at the levelled voice coming from the other end of the room, as if the man had anticipated this very scene. Forcing himself not to turn around, the Gryffindor dragged his foot forward and continue down the staircase.

Harry knew Snape was right. Dumbledore knew what he was doing—he always did. But Harry couldn't understand why he would go to such lengths to deny Malfoy's involvement in all this. If the man had his reasons, Harry wanted to know why.

Draco Malfoy. The brunet's thoughts were drifting in the direction he least wanted to explore at the moment. Why on earth was Malfoy acting like that, anyways? His ignoring of him — his _indifference._ For the past five years, Harry knew what to expect from Malfoy, more or less. He always found a way of making the blonde react to him, be it a word or a gesture. But Malfoy had become unresponsive no matter what Harry said or did.

Yet the more the blonde ignored him, the more Harry seemed to notice him. Malfoy was cunning, sly, evil, mean, taunting, and a bully—he was in more than one way a replica of his father. But Harry couldn't help seeing his other qualities: frail, quiet, detached, lonely and pained even. The more he got to know blonde, the more clouded his judgements became. Malfoy's usual sneers and taunts no long had any touch of realism, like an act fallen out of place. It was harder and harder for the brunet to grasp who the Slytherin really was. It felt…strange, unfamiliar, unpredictable, and he was curiously frightened by this change. It wasn't _right_.

Nothing was right anymore.

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"That looks reasonably good," Slughorn said as he took a quick peek inside Draco's cauldron, and then walked away as swiftly as he came. "Ah! What have we here, Mr. Zabini! Your potion looks excellent! Just one thing though. The colour is a bit off. You might want to add some more powdered lily roots in there to achieve that shade of cream-white." The man made his way around to the left side of the room after he finished checking all the Slytherins' potions. Draco glanced over his shoulder at Zabini and quirked one eyebrow.

"I think he had buttered up his praises quite a bit this last week," Draco said, Vanishing the contents inside his cauldron.

"I think you're just jealous," Blaise replied. Draco dismissed the comment, knowing that it was only meant to be a tease. Besides, there were better ways to shut him up than to retort.

"How is it going between you and Mac—"

"Just fine," Blaise snapped, narrowing his eyes. "I was only joking, Malfoy. You of all people should know that."

"Me too." The blonde grinned victoriously. "But really, how are things between you two?"

Blaise sighed and non-verbally casted a Silencing Charm. "Whenever I make the slightest attempt to talk to him, he avoids me. I even jinxed his partner one time so we could be paired up in Herbology class. He just turned his head and ignored me. I mean, you don't just go up to a bloke and kiss him, then pretend he doesn't exist."

"Class." Their conversation was interrupted by Slughorn's voice. Blaise dissipated the Charm immediately. "Before you leave for supper, I have an announcement to make." He brought out a few bottle of potions from behind his desk—all of them had been either taught or made in this class. "Earlier this year, we've spoken about the properties of various types of potions and ways of manipulating these properties. Now is the time to exercise your knowledge. You will be concocting such a potion next class, with instructions provided. However, you will be working with a different partner for this brew, just this once for a change. I will announce the name of your partner then. I am expecting excellent quality from each and every one of you. Class dismissed."

The blonde glanced over to the other side of the room to the Golden Trio as they packed and chatted. Potter's vision was skimming dangerously close to his; Draco looked away as casually as he could and piled his parchment on top of his books. The Gryffindor's gaze fell on his back and was stubbornly stuck there. Despite the foresight, Draco felt his body stiffening, paralyzing, and altogether refused to move. He could feel nothing else but the pinning gaze from the other side of the room.

"Coming to dinner, Draco?"

"Yes. Of course." Draco tossed his bag over his shoulders and left with Blaise and Theodore, letting out a breath of gratitude as he headed for the Great Hall.

Rumours were still flying around all over the place, but at least the Slytherins had the grace of keeping silent when their Prince is nearby. Having filled his appetite, the blonde was unwilling to stay any longer and parted with the rest of his housemates halfway through the meal.

Now here he lay in the comforts of his own mattress, leaning against the headboard as he carefully polished his Nimbus 2001. He had obtained the broomstick half a decade ago, yet only months ago did he truly begin to appreciate his father's gift. Draco still remembered the days when he wished to hold a Firebolt in one hand and the Quidditch Cup Championship in the other—but those days have far behind him. Mere fantasies, they were now. Beside, both of those things reminded him too much of—

The blonde forced his thoughts to a stop before they could deviate any further.

_Why can't you think of something else other than that bloody git_?

_But it's impossible,_ his conscious voiced back. _He's everywhere._

Draco bit his lips. There wasn't much room for retorts.

His presence had grown to become overwhelming. Draco could feel it whenever he entered a room, and before he knew it the blonde was already searching for his voice, as if the pitch itself was an incantation without a counterspell. Over the past few days, he had trained himself somewhat successful at shutting out anything remotely relevant to the Gryffindor.

Only weeks ago he had snarled and taunted the boy, and now he couldn't even bring himself to look at his eyes. The emerald gems held a fierceness he had never noticed before, intense, bright and powerful. He knew if he looked into them, he could not break away.

"Draco."

He gazed away from the pale green flames burning in the fireplace. "You called?"

"For the third time." Blaise sighed as he dropped a pile of books onto his table. "I can't believe I lost to a Nimbus 2000."

"Nimbus 2001," Draco corrected. "Did you need something?"

"Your hands. But that was two minutes ago." Blaise said, taking out some parchments and a quill from his bag. "Please don't tell me you've been polishing your broomstick ever since you got here."

"It's only been fifteen minutes."

"More like two hours." The blonde raised his eyebrows at the comment.

"Really." The blonde raised his eyebrows at the comment. "I guess I got carried away. I had planned on doing something more productive, like reviewing for Potions."

"Well, looks like it's your lucky day," Blaise smirked and picked up a book from the pile. "I've got most of what we need here. And mind you, you didn't even have to carry a single pound. Aren't you going to beg for an invitation?"

Draco smiled. "No need." He carefully put away his broom and sat down next to Blaise. Looking over the pile of books, the boy decided on one with a blue and silver binding. He turned to the index and went down the list. Thanks to Severus, there would not be much need to search for new materials, but once in a while he would come across interesting concoctions his Godfather never mentioned.

As he finished a few articles, a foreboding feeling rose to his chest. The pale, monstrous figure in black robes had burnt itself behind his eyes. Just when he prepared himself to endure another round of agony, the images had already dissipated into thin air. The blonde evened his breath and shut the book.

"Why don't we call it a day? You look exhausted." Blaise, too, closed his book and began tidying up the quills and parchments spread across their table.

"Do I now?" Draco smiled.

Blaise raised his eyebrows, begging to differ, but left for the bathroom to get ready for bed. And when he came back, he found the blonde sprawled across his bed deep in sleep, and his school robes still intact.

That night, the Dark Lord visited his dream again. Everywhere he looked to were the crimson eyes, seeming to penetrate his soul with no difficulty. The blonde ran into a room and found him drowning in a sea of blood, hot enough to blister his skin. His arms flung about in the peripheral and caught hold of something, slick and wet. Before he could let go, the familiar, large serpent had wrapped herself around his wrist and body; the more he fought, the tighter her hold on him became.

"Why do you run, my boy? You knew this was to happen." The blood vanished, and was replaced instead by bodies mounting on top of each other. "You will become one of them. The decision is no longer yours, not since you failed my task."

Draco's eyes jotted open, feeling the fabric of his shirt warm and sticky against his chest. He propped himself up, conjured some water and drained the liquid in a single breath. The blonde replenished the glass a second time, filling it close to the brim and sipped slow, shallow mouthfuls. Even with his eyes wide open, Draco could not shake away the cruel smile rooted deep in his mind.

It was just past eleven, he noted after casting _Tempus,_ and got out of bed. Most of the professors scanning the groups should have retired to their bedrooms by now. For the next hour or so, the Prefects will be in charge. Finding himself still in his school robes, the boy switched into something warmer and decided to go for a walk.

Once outside of the Slytherin common room, Draco cast the Disillusionment and Silencing Charm to conceal himself. Instead of following the path to the Black Lake, the boy exited the Dungeon, climbing one step at a time until he reached the seventh floor. When he made sure no one had followed him, he paced near the corner three rounds and immediately a set of wooden gates appeared on the wall.

It had been a while since he last visited the Room of Hidden Things. The piles of odd junk rested where he remembered they would be, doing what they did best by collected dust. He maneuvered himself to a tall shelf and brushed aside the canvas, revealing the Vanishing Cabinet.

"_Harmonia Nectere Passus,_" the blonde whispered, anticipating yet fearing what might lie beyond the closed doors. With an air of determination, the boy pulled at the handle, and the closet opened with a click. He held his breath as he looked inside, then ever so slowly, let his lungs deflate.

Nothing.

The boy pushed the doors closed and tried the spell a second time. Still, nothing appeared.

He shut its doors briskly, and stood with his weight leaned towards the cabinet, fingers still clinging onto the rusting handles of the closet. It had been nearly a month since he fixed the cabinet and sent his first message, yet he had not received an echo. The Dark Lord had long recovered his strength and power, and all of the former Death Eaters have now gathered—what more was there to wait for? He bit his lip at the thought.

For the hundredth time, he wished that it had not been him chosen for this task, yet he desperately wanted to end it all himself, once and for all. There was no turning back now.

His attention snapped back into place as he heard the heavy gate open with a creek. A faint ray of light slipped through and then the door swung shut once more. The blonde squinted his eyes, trying to make out the silhouette in the far corner of the room, but it did little to help. The clicking of shoes against stone approached his direction, and he quickly ducked behind a heap of stones of what seemed to be the remains of a statue.

The footsteps stopped, then retreated to another area of the room, only to return a moment later. Whoever it was, was looking for something—hopefully only a decent spot to discard some unimportant object, as he had seen so many do over the past year. Yet the gasp of excitement that came minutes after indicated otherwise. The blonde peered from behind the rubble and saw that the figure stood by the Vanishing Cabinet. But instead of taking out whatever was needed to be hidden, the figure—a female—flung the canvas aside and let the light fade from her wand. His heart picked up pace in the mere seconds it took for the fabric to reach the ground. Then, it was silence, cold and hard and thick as it stretched on.

"_Harmonia Nectere Passus._" The same incantation sounded strange in his ears. The voice that spoke was familiar, yet wrong in every sense. Dread swelled within him, oozing from his skin and spreading along it, crawling as he drowned in it. He felt his insides churning and breaking—crumbling to nothingness. How could he _not_ recognize that voice?

"Pansy?" His voice came out a shaken whisper as he brushed off the charms and stepped out of hiding. He heard the hitching of breath, as she often did when she was surprised, and the clanging of wood against marble as she dropped her wand. "What are you doing here?"

"Draco, you scared me!" She had managed to regain her cool, and flashed a wide smile. Strangers would have been fooled by her disguise, but Draco had spotted the nervousness in her eyes. "I didn't think you would be up here right now." He watched her as she bent down to pick up her wand. He narrowed his eyes and silently mirrored her action, out of instinct than anything else. When her gaze met his again, he knew what was waiting for him—but he was faster.

"_Petrificus Totalus!_" Pansy went stiff, with her arms still outstretched and her eyes wide with shock. He let out a silent breath as he lowered his hand. It hit him then that it really was Pansy Parkinson standing in front of him who was so determined to attack him a second ago. A thread of pain laced into his thoughts as the weight of the situation fell into place. Up until now, he had honestly thought that Pansy had been on his side. Despite his mother's warning about the power struggles between Death Eaters, he had thought, naively, that there had not been any conflicts of interests between him and the rest of the Slytherins. It was his father who was kept in the filthy cells of Azkaban, not theirs. But this wasn't just his war. His father had enemies who would not hesitate to pay a large price to see him suffer. Once the Dark Lord had stripped his father of his powers, there were few willing to lend a hand to the Malfoy family. Old acquaintances turned blind eyes towards them; some even severed their connections with their family completely. He just never thought that the Parkinson family would be one of them, considering the closeness the two families have shared over the past few centuries. If they have turned too, then there is no one else he could trust.

Draco was beginning to regret coming up here and learning this painful truth, but he could not let himself do that. He would not allow himself to entertain thoughts of self-deceit—not after what had happened to his family. What is revealed could not be unknown.

The blonde closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, then slowly let it out of his lungs. He had hoped that he didn't have to resort to Legilimency, but he was out of options. "I didn't think you were going to confess everything to me at any rate," he said, more to himself than to Pansy. He raised his wand once again, and cleared his head. Then, with the utmost concentration, he peered into her eyes, unpeeling the invisible layers so he can retrieve his memories.

A clouded picture of a drawing room appeared inside his head, and black smoke wisped into a figure walking in the corridors. He saw her coming up to the Seventh floor, peering around and looking for something. The look on her face told him that she had not been successful. She must have been looking for her room then.

Draco dug a little deeper, and the pictures faded into another scene. He saw her entering the Room of Hidden Things in the dark, peering around. This was what happened just now. _How did you know what to look for?_ He asked the question, and the memory hazed into another.

He saw himself sitting in the Slytherin common room, turning to get up to fetch something. Just then, Pansy came over and handed him a goblet. His former self smiled, reaching for the goblet and downed the water.

The blonde felt sick to his stomach. _Why?_

The common room disappeared, and was replaced by a drawing room in dark burgundy. Two figures appeared on the couch.

_"..take these with you."_ It was Mr. Parkinson speaking, holding out a bottle of clear liquid in his hand in a gesture that allowed no room for refusal. Pansy stared at the bottle for a long time as though contemplating, then shook her head.

_"I can't Father."_ She stared at her hands, no doubt fearing to meet her father's eyes. Silence sat between the two of them for a long time, before Mr. Parkinson stepped around the table and shoved the bottle into her hands.

_"You will do as I say and take it with you!"_

_"I can't do it, Father!"_ she said, getting up and retreating to the corner of the room. _"How can I give it to Draco, and tell him to spill everything to me at the cost of his life!"_ The man stepped forward, opening his mouth as though to object, but Pansy continued before he could utter a word. _"I know what the Verissima Potion would do to a person. It forces him to tell the truth by draining away his life. The deeper he keeps the truth hidden, the more life it drains. How can I harm him so when his father is locked away in Azkaban, when his family must endure the wrath of the Dark Lord!"_

_"Would you have wished that it was our family being punished by the Dark Lord instead? That I would be the one lockd inside Azkaban, in the company of those vile Dementors?"_

_"Of course not, Father! I would never think that! You know I wouldn't! But why must we turn our backs on the Malfoys? There must be another—"_

_"Pansy, there are no other choices!" _His voice brought Pansy to a halt. When he spoke again, he was gentler with his words. _"We mustn't let the same thing happen to the Parkinson family. Once the real war breaks loose, it's everyone for themselves. We have only ourselves to trust. As much as I regret doing this, it must be done. We must know the Dark Lord's plan, so we would not fall into the same fate!" _Pansy was still looking hesitant, but she was faltering. Mr. Parkinson continued._ "I know this isn't easy for you. After all, you have known Draco all your life. But the potion will not do him too much harm, as long as it is not used excessively. He will open up to you more easily, and I doubt it is a secret he would hide at the cost of his life."_ He presented her the bottle again, and with quivering hands, she took it and placed it inside her pocket.

Draco had seen enough. He blinked away her memories and refocused both his gaze and his wand on Pansy. Fear was consuming her; he could see it in her eyes. Draco hated that look on her face, but he had to let that out of his mind. He had to forget about tonight, forget about him seeking comfort in her company these last few months; he had to forget that Pansy Parkinson was ever his friend. He steadied his hand and whispered the spell.

"_Obliviate_."

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**Notes:** Verissima is Latin for "absolute truth"


End file.
